Freaky Friday
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: A curse leaves Spencer Reid and Dean Winchester in a strange and awkward position, they've switched bodies
1. The Switcheroo

Supernatural Season 3: After Bad Day at Black Rock

Criminal Minds Season 3: After Children of the Dark

**Freaky Friday**

1

**The Switcheroo **

_The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious _

_-Albert Einstein_

"How many people live here again?" J.J. asked, looking down the road at the "town". A small general store stood to their right, on the verge of closing by the poor economic times. As was nearly every other building in the place. She was amazed the place was still standing.

"Nine hundred and ninety-three." Spencer said, not sure where the information came from. J.J. nodded.

"How does the population divvy up?"

"There are six hundred and three males, six hundred and twenty six females." He said. He had learned that from the police file he had read on the plane.

"How do you hold that much in your head, kid?" Morgan asked, shaking his head.

"The explanation for that is far too long. I'd need a few days to give you the whole thing." Spencer said.

"The last murder here was in '99," Hotch said. "And that was a group of gay bashers."

"This is about race," Rossi said. "So they aren't related."

"So far, three black men and three Hispanic women had been killed," Hotch said. "The last woman was Maria Hidalgo. She was the owner of the town museum."

"What the hell do you look at in a museum in a town this size?" Morgan asked. Prentice grinned.

"Agent Hotchner?" A voice behind them asked. They turned. An older man in a cowboy hat stood behind them, his beer gut sticking out heavily over his belt, crushing the gun at his hip. "I'm Sheriff Jeremiah Finch," He said shaking Hotch's hand. Spencer winced. "Follow me."

They walked into the small museum, looking around at the artifacts within it. Spencer walked over to the shelves, eager to learn anything he could about this town he didn't already know.

"Maria owned this place. Betty Hollis sold it to her last year when she moved up to Montgomery," Finch explained. "Mrs. McGill up the street thought she heard some commotion and came down. When she did Maria was dead and there was no sign of nobody."

"Did the local police find anything?" Rossi asked.

"Nope," Finch said. "Not a damn thing, Suh. It was like the person who did it up and disappeared." Hotch nodded.

"What's this?" Spencer asked from across the room, pointing into a shelf. Finch stood on his toes to get a better look.

"Ah, that's the mirror that belonged to Mrs. Elizabeth Rehobeth. She was married to the man that founded the town. She got it from a fella that came down from Europe. Said if she wasn't careful, bad things could happen with it." He said. Spencer nodded and stared into the mirror.

"This inscription's in Latin," He mumbled. "Abeo existo tu. Change becomes you." Finch chuckled.

"Ya know, you're the second fella to come in here today that could read it." He said. Spencer's brow furrowed.

"Who was the other man?" He asked.

"A Marshall that came in from outta town. He asked about the murders too. He and his partner." Finch said.

"What were their names?" Hotch asked.

"Uh…Lennon and Bonham ." He said. Spencer bit his lip and looked at Hotch.

"Sheriff, those weren't real Marshalls." Hotch stated.

"Huh?" Finch said.

"We would have known if Marshalls were going to be here before us." He explained.

"And I doubt John Lennon and John Bonham were in this museum." Spencer said. Finch shook his head.

"Then who the hell were they?"

* * *

"And who the hell are you?" Sheriff Finch asked.

"Federal Marshalls," Dean said. "I'm Deputy Marshall Bonham and this is my partner Deputy Marshall Lennon." Finch nodded.

"You boys here about the murders?" He asked.

"Yes," Sam said. "We needed to ask you a few questions."

"Shoot."

"Have you noticed anything strange lately? Like things that shouldn't be there or strange people anywhere?" Sam asked.

"Nope. Nothin' like that." Finch said.

"Has anybody in town been mentioning anything along those lines? Bringing up old ghost stories, something like that?" Dean asked, looking around the small museum.

"Not any more than usual. The size of this town should speak for itself. And considering the history it has, ghost stories are bound to happen." Finch said.

"What do you mean 'history'?" Sam asked. Finch chuckled.

"Long time ago this whole town was nothin' but a plantation. Only people that lived here were Joseph Rehobeth, his wife Elizabeth, their two sons and their wives, and their slaves. Place made cotton like no other. Was one of the richest plantations in the south."

"What happened?" Sam said.

"Joseph got word that Elizabeth was sleepin' 'round with one of the slaves. He got real pissed off and went to confront her about it. They got in this huge fight and he ended up killin' her and every slave that worked there. Legend says she died right in front of that there mirror." Finch pointed to a glass case. Dean looked inside.

"Abeo existo tu," He whispered. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What happened after that?" Sam asked, glancing at the case.

"Joseph went crazy. He took off into the swamp down by their house and no one saw him again. His sons moved up north and the plantation died." Finch said.

"Is the house they lived in still standing?" Dean asked.

"Nobody's touched it since 1842," He said. "Town's been raisin' money lately to try and get it restored, but that's a slow process."

"Thank you for your time." Sam said, nodding politely.

"We'll be in touch." Dean said, following his brother out of the small museum. That's when the black, official looking SUVs pulled up. Dean immediately shoved his "badge" into his pocket and gestured for Sam to follow suit. They walked down the street, praying that no one would call out to them.

"I bet their badges are real." Dean mumbled.

"What was your first clue?" Sam said. "The SUV or the guns out in the open?" Dean glanced over his shoulder.

"I dunno, but that kid doesn't look like he even knows where the safety is." He snickered. Sam nodded.

"Maybe the FBI academy got easier." Sam suggested.

"So, do you want to go look at this house?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head.

"It's getting late, let's go tomorrow." He said. Dean grinned.

"Good, I'm starving." He said, heading for the diner. Sam sighed.

"When are you not starving?"

* * *

"How the hell did that man get into law enforcement?" Morgan asked angrily. "No car, no description, nothing."

"He's kind of old, Morgan." Prentice defended.

"It's still annoying." He grumbled. Spencer smiled.

"I still can't believe the hotel in Rehobeth was so bad we had to leave town." He said.

"It was literally a no star hotel, Spence." J.J. said.

"I don't care if we were sleeping outside, I'm bushed." Morgan said, walking into the hotel.

"Didn't he sleep for two hours on the plane?" Emily whispered to Spencer.

"Mm-hm." He said. Prentice laughed and walked into the hotel as well. Spencer followed, also eager to get to sleep.

* * *

Dean woke up the next morning and had no idea where he was. He looked around the large room, deeply confused. And Sam was nowhere in sight. He stood, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and looking around for his phone.

"C'mon, damn it." He muttered. He walked into the bathroom, planning to splash cold water in his face to wake him up faster. He needed to be able to think clearer.

Someone moved in the mirror, and it wasn't him. He looked up, fists clenched, body tense and ready to beat the shit out of the first thing he saw. And what he saw made his jaw drop in horror. Big brown eyes stared back at him. Wavy light brown hair nearly fell to his shoulders. And this skinny body moved when he did.

"Oh my god I'm twelve!"

--Feedback Please!--


	2. Nice to Meet You

2

**Nice to Meet You**

_Things do not change; we change_

_-Henry David Thoreau_

Spencer opened his eyes and was very, very, very confused. The hotel room he had fallen asleep in last night was not this one. He'd never slept in a place so rundown in his life. The yellowed curtains gave him no sense of what time of day it was, and he thought he heard movement in the bathroom. He sat up, making a solid attempt to wake up so he could think clearly. Right now his mind was the only weapon he had.

He ran over the events of the previous evening, trying to remember if he left the hotel at any given point. His eidetic memory told him nothing. He sighed, trying to find _some_ logical explanation for this. He ran his hand over his face and winced. He touched his jaw again, more confused than he was before.

"Okay, so it's been at least a month since I've shaved." He whispered. He touched the stubble again, grimacing. The bathroom door opened and he jumped.

"Hey," A man he did not know said. Spencer's eyes grew in horror. "You alright?"

"Yeah," He nodded, his voice rising three octaves. "I'm fine." The man's brows furrowed.

"Are you sure?" He asked cautiously. Spencer nodded again.

"Yeah, I'm, I'm fine. Uh…If you'll excuse me." He darted into the bathroom. He rested his hands on either side of the sink, trying to get his bearings.

_Okay, _He thought. _Let's go over the things we know. One, I am _not_ where I slept last night. Two, there is another man in this room with me. Three, I really hope that nothing happened last night._

He looked up into the mirror and wanted to scream.

"Oh my god, I'm huge!" Was all he managed to choke out. Green eyes that should be brown stared back at him. The stubble he had felt earlier was that of a stranger's face. Across their nose was a spatter of freckles. Biceps bulged under a tight T-shirt. Spencer touched the stomach. "And I'm made out of brick." He shook his head, well, the stranger's head.

His once long hair was now short and spiky. And his ears were entirely too big.

This was not logical. This was impossible, and yet, somehow, it had happened. Somehow he was this person and not himself. Then where was his body? Was the person he was in inside him? Or was he dead and somehow been reincarnated into a bulky homosexual? Or this could possibly be a misunderstanding of sorts?

_But how does that explain why I'm in this person?_

"Dean?" The man on the other side of the door called. "Are you alright?" Dean. Okay, his new name was Dean.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" He called back.

_Is that my voice? Seriously? _He shook his head again. _Alright, I'm going to open the door. I'm going to open it and pray that I can go find everybody else. Maybe they can find an explanation for this. And maybe I can find my body. _

He took another deep breath and grabbed the door knob. He took his time in opening it, and when he did he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Where's my brother?"

* * *

"Oh my god, I'm twelve!" Dean shook his head, unable to comprehend this. "How in the..? Why the..? I'm gonna..! Holy shit is that my voice?" He touched his throat out of reflex. "Is that seriously my voice? I haven't even hit puberty yet!" He touched his face again. "And I'm baby faced. Great. Absolutely freakin' great!" He paused for a moment, still grimacing at the sight of his new body. "Wallet, I-I need a wallet." He walked out of the bathroom, looking around for something to tell him who he was now. He saw a badge lying on the desk at the front of the room.

"Holy crap, this is real," He marveled, turning it over in his hands. "FBI…What the hell's BAU?" He sat the badge back on the table and went back to his original mission. He saw a bag resting in the corner. "Bingo." He didn't have to dig through it for very long.

"Alright," He said, straightening up and taking out the ID. "I'm twenty seven…Must be in dog years. And my name is Dr. Spencer Reid," He paused. "How in the hell is this kid a doctor already?!" There was knocking on the door.

"Reid!" A voice called. "Lobby, twenty minutes."

"Okay!" Dean called. Footsteps died away. "Crap, I gotta go to work. As an FBI agent. Damn it, I'm the kid I made fun of yesterday!" He shook his head and tossed the wallet on the table next to the badge that was not made at Kinkos. He pushed his hair out of his voice, growing annoyed with having to do so, and started digging through the bag again in an attempt to find something to wear.

"Dork, dork, dork, dork, sweater vests? Are you kidding me!" He dug all the way to the bottom before he found a single pair of dark colored jeans that looked like they had been worn maybe once. "Wow. Now, my kingdom for a damn T-shirt." He dug around some more, and once again, found only one white T-shirt. He sighed and grabbed it and the solid black dress shirt he had passed earlier. Once he put the clothes on he braved the bathroom again, angrily pushing his hair out of his face once more. He rolled up the sleeves of the black shirt out of habit and looked into the mirror.

"Okay, so my sex appeal hasn't been sucked completely dry," He said, hair falling in his face again. "And what the hell am I gonna do with this?" He growled. "I could freakin' braid this!" He sighed and pushed some of it back over his head. He appraised it for a moment, then continued to push the rest back. He smiled smugly at his handiwork.

"Not bad," He said. "And it's out of my damn face." He walked out of the bathroom, grabbed his badge, his wallet and the gun that he was actually allowed to carry and walked out of the door.

* * *

"Where's my brother?"

Spencer swallowed.

_Brother? Oh that is _so_ much better than what I thought it was! But this psychopath's gonna kill me._

"I don't know." He choked. The man shifted his grip on the gun, anger flaring in his eyes as he moved it closer to Spencer's face.

"Try again." He said darkly.

"L-look," Spencer gulped. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm twenty seven years old. I work for the FBI. I have never met you or your brother before in my life. All I know is that I woke up in this place inside your brother's body." The man looked confused. Spencer wondered whether he should take this time to run or try and disarm him. But he dismissed all possibilities of doing so. He couldn't move.

Slowly, the gun was lowered.

"You're not Dean," The man stated. Spencer shook his head. "I am so sorry."

"You should be." Spencer said quietly.

"I didn't think you were…I thought you were something else."

"Don't you mean someone?" Spencer asked. The man extended his hand.

"I'm Sam Winchester." He said, avoiding the question. Spencer hesitated, but still shook his hand.

"Spencer Reid," He said, still unsure if this person was unstable or not. "And, uh…Who am I in?"

"My brother, Dean." Sam explained.

"Do you have any idea how this could have happened?" Spencer asked. Sam looked away from him.

"I have a few theories. But I don't think you'd like them," He mumbled. "You said you were a doctor?" Spencer nodded.

"I have three doctorates and almost four BA's. I'm working on getting one in psychology." Sam's brows rose, impressed.

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty seven."

"Are you some kind of genius?" Sam asked. Spencer sighed.

"I don't believe intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words per minute…" Sam's eyes were wide. "Yes, I'm a genius." Sam chuckled.

"Nice to meet you." He said. Spencer nodded.

"Likewise."

* * *

Emily and J.J. were talking about nothing in particular, sipping on cups of coffee. Rossi came down the stairs and smiled lightly at them.

"Morning." He said.

"Hey Rossi," J.J. said. "We get to talk to families today, are you excited?"

"Ecstatic." Rossi said, his smile turned sarcastic. J.J. laughed.

"Oh my god," Emily said quietly, tugging on J.J.'s sleeve. "J.J." She turned, and her mouth fell open. Spencer walked down the stairs in jeans that were entirely too tight, a black long-sleeved shirt that was opened to reveal a white T-shirt showing muscles she didn't even know he had. He caught her and Emily staring, and he winked at them. J.J. gasped quietly. Emily swallowed hard. He walked past them after that, heading into the dining area with Rossi, Morgan and Hotch. The two women looked at each other.

"Did you see that or am I hallucinating?" Emily asked. J.J. shook her head.

"No, I saw it too."

"Reid…he, he got…"

"Hot."

--Wow..What could go wrong, right? Feedback please!--


	3. Coincidence?

3

**Coincidence?**

_Coincidence is God's way of staying anonymous _

_-Anonymous_

"Do you know how impossible this is?" Spencer said. "There is no scientific probability for this to happen. The equipment doesn't exist, the tools don't exist! This is impossible!"

Sam watched his brother's body pace back and forth restlessly, deeply agitated. The voice, the mannerisms, hell the way he was dressed was all wrong, and _very_ bizarre.

"Maybe this is something that you just can't explain, Dr. Reid." He suggested.

"Spencer, please," He said. "Then what could it be, Sam?"

"You aren't used to not knowing these things, are you?" Sam asked.

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, raising his brother's voice three octaves. Sam stifled a laugh. "To be honest I'm used to having _several_ answers to these sorts of anomalies."

Sam shook his head. Hearing his brother have this vocabulary was wrong on some level he couldn't name. It was against nature, he knew that for sure.

"Like I said, maybe this is something you can't explain."

"_Everything_ has an explanation. This is impossible…and yet it happened," He stopped pacing abruptly and looked at Sam. "And you know why, don't you?"

* * *

Dean looked around the bed 'n' breakfast's buffet, piling more food on his overflowing plate. He had come to the conclusion earlier that Dr. Spencer Reid was a part time anorexic. He felt like he hadn't eaten for at least three years.

He had also come to the assumption that Dr. Spencer Reid had probably only had sex once in his life. And that must have been years ago. Dean wasn't sure why he could tell that just from being in a different person but he could.

He sat down next to who he assumed he was Morgan, at least that was what the tight ass had been calling him.

And he meant tight _ass_. He thought that if this man smiled his face would break into a thousand pieces. What the hell was his name, though? Hatch, Hodge…

"So, Hotch, what are we doin' today?" Morgan asked. Hotch! That was it.

"We have to speak to the victims families." Hotch said. He seemed to be the leader of this little group. Morgan was the muscle, J.J.- according to what Rossi had said earlier- the media contact. Rossi was the guy that had to state the obvious all the time. Always a fun attribute and Emily was the looks. J.J. was hot, of course, but she already had a title. But what did that make him, well, Dr. Spencer Reid.

"Reid, what's the statistics on race based homicides?" Morgan asked. Dean gave him a blank look.

How in all holy hell was anyone supposed to know that? Who in the world knew shit like that?

"I dunno." He said honestly. Morgan looked shocked, like somebody that learned the end of the world was here and now shocked. Hotch and Rossi froze as well.

"You don't know?" Rossi asked. Again, Mr. State the Obvious A Lot. He shook his head, slightly irritated with these people who were gawking at him.

_Great,_ He thought. _I have to be the brain of this operation! Fabulous._

"Kid, are you feeling okay?" Morgan asked. Dean tried not to grimace. Kid, such bullshit. Kid.

"Yeah, I'm alright," He said. "Just had a weird night."

"And apparently you haven't eaten in a week." Emily said, sitting down across from him. She still was in awe at what he looked like at this moment, but she would try and do her job as usual. If he stopped looking at her like that.

"I have a healthy appetite. Not a crime, is it?" He said, half smiling flirtatiously at her.

_Don't be silly, Emily,_ She thought sternly. _He's just smiling, that's all. He's just Reid. There is no way in Hell or any other realm out there that he is looking at you like that._ But he was, at least Dean knew that.

"No, but cholesterol might be one of these days." She said. He laughed. J.J. sat down next to Emily, also still shocked.

"Agent Hotchner?" A voice said with such a thick southern accent they weren't sure what he had said at first. They could tell by his uniform he was state police and as were the five men behind him.

Hotch stood.

"I'm Agent Hotchner," He said, shaking the man's hand. His mustache was as thick as his accent, his glasses were wire rimmed and he had an equally large beer belly as the sheriff in Rehobeth. "What can I do for you?"

"We've bein asked bah th' Guv'ner ta take ovah on this here case," He said. "Said yuh's s'pposed ta take off back ta Quanteeco."

Hotch nodded.

"Thank you." He said. The men turned and walked away. Hotch sighed.

"I'll call the airport and get the plane ready." J.J. said. He nodded.

"So, I didn't quite catch that, where are we goin'?" Dean asked.

"Back to Quantico. They've kicked us off of the case." Morgan said.

"Oh," He said, trying to hide that he didn't want to go anywhere. "I should grab my crap then, huh?" He said, downing the last of his coffee before darting up the stairs.

"Is he okay?" Emily asked. "He's acting weird."

"I have no idea," Morgan said. "But I'm not sure if I like it."

"I don't get it," J.J. said, closing her cell phone. "It's like overnight he's turned into a completely different person."

* * *

"And you know why, don't you?" Spencer said. Sam swallowed. Profilers could do stuff like this. Find out when you know something and when you don't just by watching your reactions and how you worded things. And Spencer was a genius, so he must have had an advantage over the others he worked with, right? Right. So that meant he was in real trouble.

"Look, Spencer, if I told you what I thought happened, you'd laugh in my face and have me committed somewhere." Sam said truthfully. Spencer pursed his lips.

"So, you aren't going to tell me because it's crazy, is that what you're saying?" He asked. Sam nodded. "Sam, if it's a theory that hasn't been proven I can handle it. Einstein was thought to be crazy at times as well, so go ahead." Sam chuckled bitterly and shook his head.

"I wish it's as simple as that, I really do. But it's not. You just flat out wouldn't believe me." He said. Spencer sighed.

"Then I need to get back to the other FBI agents I work with. They might be able to sort all of this out." He said. Sam stood, epiphany lighting up his face.

"What if I told you I could try and reverse this before you have to do that?" He said. Spencer's brow creased.

"I'm open to suggestions."

"I can't tell you what it is I'm doing for your own good, but I might be able to put this all behind us very quickly." He said.

"Are you fixing this here?" Spencer asked. Sam shook his head.

"No there's somewhere I need to go." He said, grabbing the keys to the Impala and his jacket.

"Well I'm going with you!" Spencer said, slightly outraged this man would leave him out of this.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Spencer." Sam said.

"I think I can handle myself," He defended. "I work with psychotics and serial killers on a daily basis, I think I can handle whatever it is you're doing."

"Fine," Sam said. "But you're waiting in the car."

**Ten minutes later…**

Sam shut off the Impala's -or what Spencer had so fondly named, the Death Trap- engine and looked up at the ancient house. The grass was mowed, most likely by someone with a large tractor around here, but the rest of the house was a mess. Windows were broken, walls were dressed in spray paint and the door was nearly hanging off of its hinges.

At a time like this, Dean would have said: "Mm, homey." But instead, his brother's voice said: "What are we doing here?"

"I told you. I might be able to fix this but I can't explain the circumstances." Sam said, opening the driver's side door.

"So you expect me to trust you?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. Spencer gave him a skeptical look. "Look I know how this sounds and I know it doesn't make any sense but this is the only thing I can think of to get you back in your body and Dean back in his, okay?" Spencer nodded reluctantly.

Sam walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out a shot gun, the EMF meter and rounds of rocksalt. Spencer stared at him curiously as he approached the driver's side window again.

"No matter what you hear, stay in the car." He said. Spencer nodded. Sam took off toward the house before he could ask any questions.

* * *

Dean dug through Dr. Spencer Reid's bag, desperately searching for a phone. He found one and jammed his fingers into the keys, dialing a number he could call in his sleep.

It rang. And rang. And rang. And rang.

"C'mon, Sammy, pick up!" He whispered harshly. It rang. And rang. And rang one more time.

"_Hi, you've reached Sam…"_

"Damn it!" Dean yelled, slamming the phone shut.

"Reid," A voice said on the opposite side of the door. "C'mon, man, we're leavin'."

* * *

Spencer sat in the car obediently, like Sam had asked, until there was a loud crash inside. He heard Sam scream. And after that, total silence. He waited. And waited. Nothing. Not a sound. Even the animals had quieted. Spencer made a split second decision and darted out of the car toward the house, snatching the .45 he had found in the glove box.

And as soon as the door shut and he began to run, Sam's phone started to vibrate on the seat.

--Ooh, so close. Feedback please! : D --


	4. Discoveries

4

**Discoveries**

_The beginning of knowledge is the discovery of something we do not understand_

_-Frank Herbert_

Dean sat on the plane, clenching the arms of his chair tightly in his fingers, glancing out the window every few seconds. His muscles were tense and he tried his best to remember every Metallica song's lyrics that he could.

The people around him were talking, but he was far from listening. Scenarios of the worst case continually popped into his head.

Some bird getting stuck in the engine and running out of parachutes when the plane started to crash. Getting stuck in some freak storm over the ocean and getting eaten by Jaws when they crashed.

_Hey, at least if that happens the pretty blonde ones go first,_ He glanced at J.J., who was deep in conversation with Hotch. _Sorry, Jenny._

"Reid." A voice said across from him.

"What?!" Dean snapped, his voice shaking.

"You okay, kid? You seem a little freaked out." Morgan said.

"I'm fine, dude. I am just freakin' peachy." He said, looking out the small window again.

He felt Morgan's eyes on him for a long moment before he looked back at the file in his hands.

Dean meanwhile tried to keep his breathing regular. Hyperventilating wasn't fun, he'd done it before. The first time he was ever on a plane 'cause Dad wanted to go gank this thing in Dublin. He hated Ireland and he will forever hate Ireland simply because of that. He had hyperventilated and passed out for four hours, Dad did nothing and Sam tried, and when he woke up they both laughed at him. He then proceeded to ask Sam why he didn't care for McDonalds.

He started humming in an attempt to calm himself down, trying to think of how he was going to get a chance to talk to Sam without these goons around. He wondered if Dr. Spencer Reid had ended up in his body, if the good doctor was the one behind this, and if Sam was enjoying his company.

"Is that Metallica?" Morgan asked. He nodded. "'Nothing Else Matters'?" He nodded again. "What is up with you, man?"

"Dunno what you're talking about." Dean said through his teeth.

"Let's see, you have game for the first time in your not so long life. You ate enough today to satisfy a large horse. You keep cussing. You're dressed weird. You're humming Metallica instead of Mozart. You didn't know the answer to something we asked you. This isn't you, man."

"Change can happen. No one's immune." Dean said.

"You are, Mr. I Know Everything." Morgan said. The others were paying attention now.

"And, you're scared to fly all of the sudden." Rossi said. Dean _really_ didn't like him. He glared at him, his eyes smoldering. J.J.'s eyes grew and she swallowed.

"If I told you guys what was wrong with me you'd think I was crazy. And I really don't want to have to go to the loony bin." Dean sighed.

They all glanced at each other, thinking about the same thing. Spencer's mother.

* * *

Spencer ran into the house, raising the gun. Silence had ensued around him, and it was the worst kind. The calm before the storm kind.

He looked around the corners, trying desperately to find Sam. What if he was hurt by some homeless person that was residing here? Or by a group of teenagers that was trying to vandalize the ancient house? No, he knew this wasn't something normal. People wouldn't cause such a silence.

A wild animal then.

He crept up the stairs, making as little noise as he possibly could on the old wood. He found himself looking down a long, dark hallway and about six doors each on either side. He started down the hall, reaching for the large oak door's handle.

As soon as he opened it a gust of stale air blew at him, making him stumble backwards into the wall opposite him. He coughed and straightened up, readying himself to enter the room.

Before he could a woman stood in the doorway, the tie at the top of her 1800s looking dress was undone, revealing a great amount of cleavage. She was smiling flirtatiously at him, her long, dark hair flowing to her waist tousled, as if she had been asleep.

"Hello gorgeous," She said, her light voice held a hint of a southern accent. "Come ova here and kiss meh, lord knows m' husband won'."

Spencer blushed.

"I, I'm sorry, m-ma'am, but I'm lo-looking for a friend of m-mine. Have you seen him?" He stammered. She shook her head and sauntered toward him.

"Ah declare ah haven't the slightest ideah of what you're sayin', suga'. Th' only person ah seen here today 's you." She buzzed out for a moment, as if she were a TV losing signal. Spencer shook his head.

_I didn't see that. I blinked, that was all._

But how could he blink when this woman was now pressing up against him? He couldn't even breathe.

"I,I, uh-"

"Hush now," She pressed a finger to his lips. His blush deepened. "Go on 'n' kiss me, suga'. Joseph won' be back from th' fields fo' hours. That's plenty of tihme." She was leaning toward him, her eyes closing, lips parting slightly. She shorted out again. This time he was sure he saw it. Her lips touched his and he pushed her off of him.

She glared at him, enraged.

"How dare you lead meh on like that!" She yelled. She had her hand wrapped around his throat before he could explain. She lifted him off of the ground, her eyes wild.

Spencer grasped at her hands, his face gaining more and more red by the second.

"I jus' want someone ta love meh!" She sobbed. "Tha's all ah want!"

BANG! Spencer collapsed where she had been holding him, coughing and clutching his neck. Sam came down the hallway, holding his shoulder, sawn-off in hand.

"I told you to stay in the car!" Sam groaned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Spencer said hoarsely. "What the hell just happened?"

"Not here," Sam said, glancing around. "Back at the motel room, okay?"

Spencer nodded and followed him down the stairs.

"What happened to your shoulder?" He asked.

"Dislocated." Sam grunted through gritted teeth.

"Should you go to the hospital?" Spencer suggested.

"No," Sam said, right before he slammed his right side into a wall. He cried out, his knees buckling for a moment, threatening to drop him. He sighed when the pain subsided. He rotated his arm, getting feeling back in it. "I have my own remedies."

* * *

Dean had never been happier to be on the ground in his life. Now, if he could only get somewhere private to try and call Sam again…

He was back in a black SUV, heading for a large white building that looked about as interesting as Hotch did.

He walked into the room, following everyone else to the cluster of desks. By process of elimination, he found Dr. Spencer Reid's. As he walked toward it, and adorable woman wearing a bright green top, black skirt and shoes and glasses to match walked toward him, fussing with some files she had in her arms.

"Hi, Emily!" She said brightly as she walked past her desk.

"Hi, Penelope." Emily said, smiling warmly.

"Hey, Baby-Girl." Morgan said. Garcia curtsied.

"Gorgeous." She said. Dean stopped and looked at her, smirking, both amused and curious by this new creature that had wandered into his midst.

"Behave, Garcia!" J.J. called. Penelope giggled.

She was looking at her files as she approached him.

"Hey, Re-" She stopped, dropping her half wave. "Re-ee-eye-ya-yeye." She gawked up at him, her mouth slightly opened.

"Hi, Penny," He said. "You don't care if I call you that, right?" He asked. She shook her head. He started to walk past her, winking at her broadly. She gulped and gripped the files tighter.

"You, you can absolutely call me anything you want, babe." He chuckled and sat down at Dr. Spencer Reid's desk, leaning back, his arms behind his head.

Morgan shook his head while the girls gaped along with Garcia.

Garcia grabbed the front of J.J. and Emily's shirts.

"Girl talk, my office, now." She said, dragging them off.

Dean smiled, pleased with himself. He wasn't sure who this Garcia girl was, but he liked her. She was gonna be fun. Beyond fun.

_I still got it,_ He thought smugly, ignoring Morgan, Hotch and Rossi's shocked faces as they stared at him. _Dork or no dork._ He added.

* * *

Spencer sat on the edge of the motel bed, his face in his hands, shaking his head.

"Believe it or not I didn't want to tell you about all of this." Sam said, sitting on the bed across from him.

"I understand why." Spencer said, his voice muffled.

"I'm sorry." Sam said honestly.

"No," Spencer looked up at him. "I'm glad you told me. I really am. At least it's an explanation."

"It's ruined people's lives before." Sam mumbled.

"Like yours and Dean's," Spencer said. Sam looked at the floor. "I can see why it would. No long-term contact with anyone but each other, seeing all of these terrible things day after day. Sometimes you stop them, sometimes you don't." Sam nodded.

"I don't want it to ruin your life, Spencer." He said. Spencer shook his head and chortled bitterly.

"We have the same job, Sam," He whispered. "I hunt monsters too."

--Aww, depressing... : ( Feedback please! : D --


	5. The Truth and Nothing but the Truth

5

**The Truth and Nothing but the Truth**

_Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free_

_-The Bible John 8:32_

"Okay, when did this happen?" Garcia asked.

"Uh…This morning." J.J. said. Emily nodded.

"We don't know why or how," She said. "He just started acting like this out of nowhere. He didn't know the answer to a statistic question earlier. We don't know what his problem is, it's like he's not even the same person."

Garcia peeked out her office at him. He was looking around, still leaning back leisurely in his chair. She grinned.

"Well I don't know what's gotten into him, but I like it." She said mischievously.

J.J. shook her head.

"So do I, but God this is weird."

"Who cares?" Garcia asked.

"He's not as smart as he was yesterday." Emily said.

"Maybe he's playing dumb." J.J. suggested.

"Why would he?" Emily asked. "He hasn't for the past twenty seven years, why would he start now?"

"I don't know." J.J. said truthfully.

"I've got it!" Garcia exclaimed. They turned to her. "That's not Reid out there, it's his awesome twin." The girls erupted with laughter.

"Hey it could happen," Penelope said. "Or maybe his clone. You don't think Reid figured out how to clone people by now?"

"As true as that may be, I think he would have told us if he figured that out." J.J. said.

"Who knows? Reid could have some secret lab in his apartment." Garcia giggled.

"Well, I don't see any of us going into said apartment in the near future so that remains one of life's great mysteries." Emily said. The other two nodded in agreement.

"I do know one thing," Garcia said, peeking out the door again. "He keeps calling me Penny in that tone I'm gonna go bezerk."

* * *

"I hunt monsters too," Spencer said, not looking at Sam. "Nearly every day of my life. Monsters that take women and take three days to kill them, monsters that kill babies, monsters that can be caught, and others that can't. Monsters that just want to hurt people in the worst ways you can think of, and others that don't know their doing it. Monsters that use God to scare people, or justify what they're doing to people, or make people follow them," He took a deep breath. "We do the exact same thing." Sam nodded and sat on the bed opposite him.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums up what Dean and I do." He said.

"Are you the only ones that do this?" Spencer asked.

"No. There are other hunters out there. Our dad was a hunter, so are several friends of ours." Sam explained.

"Your father passed away?" Spencer said quietly. "Not to pry or anything." Sam nodded.

"Yeah. About a year ago. The demon that got him started hunting in the first place killed him." He said.

"I'm so sorry." Spencer said.

"What about you? You're family, I mean," Sam asked. Spencer swallowed and looked at the floor. "You don't have to answer." Sam assured. He shook his head.

"No, you told me, it's only fair," He sighed. "My father left my mother when I was nine. And I haven't seen him since then. My mother…She was diagnosed with schizophrenia a long time ago. I had her hospitalized when I was eighteen. She's at a hospital in Las Vegas."

Sam didn't know what to say. All that came out was: "Wow." Spencer chuckled

"Pretty much," They were both quiet for a long time. "I need to go to the hotel I was at last night. Your brother might be there."

Sam nodded and stood, grabbing the Impala keys again and opening the door.

"Quick question," He said, pausing. "You don't work with any women do you?"

"Yes, three. Why?" Spencer asked. Sam sighed.

"Are they good looking?" Spencer nodded. Sam groaned. "I was really hoping you weren't going to say that."

"Why?" Sam laughed nervously and tossed Spencer a cell phone.

"Check my brother's phonebook. You'll understand then." Spencer looked down at the phone curiously. Sam flipped open his own phone.

"Dead, damn it." He said and tossed it on the bed.

* * *

"Aw, what the hell, Sammy?" Dean growled, slamming Dr. Spencer Reid's phone closed. Voicemail…Why the hell would he turn his phone off in the first place? He walked back out into the office, snatching up a file on his desk and not knowing what the hell to do with it.

He opened it and thought he might lose his lunch.

He flipped through the crime scene pictures, swallowing several times.

He'd seen worse than this before, when a Wendigo got a hold of someone. A person had done this. Just a person. No demonic possession, no monster, no nothing. Just some guy.

He shut the folder, stifling a shudder. He looked at the pile on the corner of the desk. He'd bet money that they were also filled with horrors concocted by people.

He gained some respect for Dr. Spencer Reid at that moment. The guy had to have guts to deal with this stuff.

At least with monsters he knew they weren't people. Some of them used to be, and some of them were born freaks. But he guessed that worked with people too.

"You alright, Reid?" Morgan asked, hoisting a bag over his shoulder. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You should go ahead and clock out, man. Those files won't go anywhere by morning." He said. Dean nodded and stood, grabbing Dr. Spencer Reid's bag and followed Morgan out to the parking lot. He passed Garcia on the way out the door and winked at her.

"Bye, Penny." He said, just low enough so she could hear. She gave a small squeal and walked faster, grinning but trying not to.

"Hey, kid," Morgan doubled back. "You sure you're okay? I mean, if there's something bothering you, you can tell me."

Dean stared at him. If he told him the truth there is no way he would believe him. Knowing this logical man would definitely think him crazy. He sighed.

"You promise that whatever I tell you, you won't throw me in a hospital somewhere?" He asked. Morgan nodded. "And you won't go tell Bossman and get me fired or some psych eval., right?" He nodded again. "Swear in your mother's life?"

"Yeah, swear on my Mama's life."

Dean glanced sideways at him and sighed.

"What if I told you I've never met Dr. Spencer Reid before in my life?" He said. Morgan's brow creased. "And what if I told you that I'm not Spencer Reid? Would you believe me?" There was a long lapse of silence between them. All the while Morgan stared at him, and Dean looked right back. Dean snorted.

"That's what I thought." Dean said. He hit the unlock button on Dr. Reid's car keys and waited to see which car's lights lit up. He walked away, leaving Morgan even more confused than he was before.

Once inside the SUV

"Company car, pshh."

he took out Dr. Reid's wallet and checked the address. He'd been to this part of Virginia before, luckily, and knew where he was going.

He drove to the apartment, wondering if Morgan would keep his promise. He checked the wallet again and took out his keys. He walked up the stairs, unable to find the elevator, and checked the address several times. He stood outside the door, feeling like he was breaking into someone's house even though he had the key. He sighed, shoved the key into the lock, and opened the door.

"Holy crap."

* * *

"He checked out?!" Spencer asked, outraged. The man at the desk nodded.

"Yayes, earleeah taday." He said, slightly disgruntled. Spencer ran his hand through his hair, pausing for a millisecond before he remembered how short it was now.

"Do you know where they went?" He asked, exasperated.

"Ahm not autharized ta say…" The man said.

"It's a family emergency," Sam interjected. "Our mom."

"He's ya brotha?" The man asked.

"Yes, the youngest," Spencer said. "And we _really_ need to know where he is. We're not sure because of his job, you see."

"He and the rest of those FBAh fellas went back ta Quanteeco."

Spencer sighed.

"Thank you." Sam said, walking out of the hotel with Spencer in tow.

"Great, absolutely great. I have to go to Quantico to find my body." He groaned.

"Well, at least we know where my brother is," Sam said. "And what do you mean, 'I'? I'm going with you."

"Really?"

"I have to get my brother. And we're the only ones that might be able to fix this." Sam explained.

"Do you have any ideas as to what this is?" Spencer asked. Sam sighed.

"It's either a spell or a curse. And I really hope it's a spell."

"Why?"

"Because if it's a curse…there might not be a way to reverse it." Sam admitted.

"Great!" Spencer yelled, throwing his arms up in the air. "Great! I might have to stay like this forever and not be able to explain why I look the way I do. And your brother'll have to be me for the rest of his life as well! God, this has to be a nightmare of some kind!"

Sam froze opening the car door.

The rest of their lives…

Dean was going to Hell in ten months. But was it Dean's body that would be going, or Spencer's?

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked.

"Nothing." Sam said, getting into the car. Spencer followed his actions.

"No, no, don't 'nothing' me. What?" He said, paranoid.

"You don't want to know, trust me."

"I think I can handle-"

"Drop it!" Sam barked. Spencer winced and sat back in the seat. Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, you…you just don't want to know, Spencer."

The last thing Spencer needed right now was the fear that if they couldn't fix this, either he or his body would be going to the worst possible place imaginable. He couldn't do that to him. Not yet. Not when he had already told him too much.

"Alright, we'll start for Quantico tonight." He said. Spencer nodded.

"Thanks." He said. Sam nodded.

He thought back to his and Spencer's conversation earlier that day. About the women he worked with.

_I'll be there soon, Dean. And for the love of God, control yourself for the next twelve hours._

--Sammy should know better, huh? : D Feedback please!--


	6. In Your Dreams

6

**In Your Dreams**

_Judge of your natural character by what you do in your dreams_

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

"Holy crap."

Books. Hundreds, strike that, thousands, everywhere. Dean was sure this place had walls, but by looking at it, the walls were bookcases. They were lined shelf by shelf, not even a space for dust to get through. And though the cases were full, there were still more piled everywhere, up against walls, in corners, next to the couch, some of the stacks were tall enough to come to his waist.

"Wow," He whispered. He felt like an intruder, and in the dead silence he thought he could hear the books whispering to him to get out, like they knew he wasn't their original owner. "Creepy." He snatched up one off of the stack closest to him and glanced at the title. "The Tommyknockers", Stephen King. He set it back down and moved to another pile, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Beyond Good and Evil", Nietzsche.

He'd never heard of these himself, but they looked as if they'd been read a dozen times.

He continued through the apartment, seeing a book at one point written by Rossi.

That had to be a thrilling read. "Stuff We All Already Knew but Didn't Need to Say Out Loud" by David Rossi. Yeah, great. Dean snorted. Besides the mounds of books and newspapers lying about the place was relatively tidy. There were a few dishes in the sink, pens and open bills lying on the kitchen table.

He made his way into a second bedroom that had been made into a study. Once again, more bookcases lined the walls. A sleeping computer sat on the desk. Next to it was a stack of stationary. A letter had been started and remained unfinished.

"Mom," It said. "I hope your day was good. Mine was, before you ask. We saved a girl and caught the man that was preying on people's fears. You remember-"

So Dr. Spencer Reid talks to his mom a lot.

Dean stepped out of the study and back into the hall, dodging a small mound of paperbacks that threatened to trip him. He found the bedroom, surprised that there was only one medium sized bookcase against the far wall. The bed was made, a nightstand stood on either side of it. One of the drawers in the one closest to him was halfway open. He peered into it and saw three things. He opened it completely and picked up the piece of paper.

"Spencer,

I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me. I'm sorry the explanation couldn't be better, Spencer. And I'm sorry it doesn't make more sense. But I've already told you…I just don't understand it anymore.

I guess I'm just looking for it again- For the belief I had back in college, the belief I had when I first met Sarah and it all seemed so right. The belief in happy endings.

-J. Gideon"

Dean put the letter back and took out the small glass bottle. It was empty, and looked like it had been for awhile now. He frowned, his brow creasing when he saw what it said on the label. Dilaudid Heroin. It calmed him to know the bottle was empty, but it troubled him as to why someone as smart as Dr. Spencer Reid would do drugs in the first place. He was having no cravings himself, so that meant the good doctor was off of it, right? He put the bottle away, stifling the urge to chuck it across the room. There were no syringes, no marks on his arms, but why would he have kept the bottle? He'd have to ask Dr. Spencer Reid when he saw him. He was sure to find out all kinds of things about _him_, considering Sam could be a chatter box, especially when he got along with someone.

The third thing was a picture. It was old and dog-eared at the corners. The picture showed a man and a woman standing next to each other, smiling. A small boy stood between them. His light brown hair glittered in the bright sunlight and reflected off of the glasses that were entirely too big for his face. His plaid button up shirt was tucked into khaki shorts. Tube socks nearly came up to his knees out of brown loafers. Dean chuckled.

Dr. Spencer Reid had been a dork since birth.

The woman was blonde and slender, her smile not reaching her eyes. Her hands were placed protectively on Spencer's shoulders but she looked like that she could care less that the man that Dean assumed was her husband was there. The man had dark hair and dark eyes, and he was barely smiling at all. He turned the picture over and read the date. July 4, 1985. So Spencer was about three at the time.

Dean sighed and put the picture back and shut the drawer. He glanced at the bed, realizing how tired he was. But he wouldn't sleep in Dr. Spencer Reid's bed. That'd be rude. And he already felt like he shouldn't be here. He grabbed the first pillow he could reach and headed back into the crowded living room. Once again, the uproar of the books seemed to happen again. Their disapproving tones relaying to one another, their spines frowning at him.

He sighed, using his head to beat the pillow underneath it into submission.

"Look, I'm not gonna hurt anything," He mumbled. "So chill out. This is only temporary."

God, he was talking to books. He hoped Dr. Spencer Reid's extreme case of Nerd wasn't rubbing off on him.

Hours later Dean was finally able to sleep. And when he did he dreamed of terrible things.

* * *

Spencer was finished with his turn driving and he was definitely ready for sleep. Though he still didn't trust the Deathtrap- as he had so fondly nicknamed the Impala- he did trust Sam. Though he didn't really have another choice.

He leaned his head against the glass of the window, the hum of the car's engine working as a sort of lullaby to send him into that blissful darkness. But it was hardly bliss when the dreams came.

_I sit bolt upright in my bed, smelling the smoke, hearing the screaming. I get up, my legs working fast to get down the hallway. There's a bright, menacing light coming from Sammy's room. I don't like it. It could hurt him._

_Don't go to it, I think. Fire hurts, run away! _

_But I don't. I keep running. The light is bright and hot. I can barely see Mommy on the ceiling. _

_Daddy shoves something in my arms. A small, squirming bundle that I know is more important than anything else in the world. _

"_Take your brother outside as fast as you can, now, Dean, go!" Daddy yells. I look yearningly back up at the ceiling, knowing that this might be the last time I see her. But it's only for a second. The bundle squirms again and I run, squeezing it tighter._

_I move carefully down the stairs, trying to block out Daddy's screaming. I reach the bottom and yank open the front door, coughing._

_My bare feet touch cool grass and a rock stabs me, but I keep going. I keep going until I reach the sidewalk._

_I look down at the face of the blue bundle. Brown orbs look back up at me, a small nose peeking over the blackened blanket. I cough again but smile down at my baby brother. _

"_Don't worry, Sammy," I say quietly. "Daddy'll stop da fire. Nd Mommy'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Mommy's gonna be alright. Daddy'll save her. I know it."_

_Daddy comes outside, coughing more than I am. I wait for Mommy to come behind him. She doesn't. Light from Sammy's room floods the yard with an eerie glow, dancing on the wet grass._

_Daddy comes over to us._

"_Where's Mommy, Daddy?" He bends down in front of me. Daddy's crying. He takes Sammy from me, easing him out of my arms. _

_Her face flashes in front of my mind, smiling at me. Tears fill my own eyes. "Is Mommy in Heaben?" I ask in a strangled voice. Daddy nods._

"_Yes, Dean." I start to sob. Daddy hugs me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I cry into his shirt, wanting more than anything for Mommy to kiss me goodnight just one more time._

Spencer sat up, breathing heavily, tears on his face.

"You okay?" Sam asks. Spencer marvels at how much bigger he is now.

"Yes," He said, wiping his face, thankful for the darkness. "Just a dream." But it had felt like so much more than that. It felt like a memory.

And if he was having dreams like this, what was Dean dreaming about?

* * *

Dean rolled over in his sleep, moaning. The books wonder what could be troubling the man that looked exactly the one that rifled through their pages so often.

But Dean knew good and well what was happening.

_I ran through the park, pushing the swings behind me. Maybe that'll slow them down._

_Sweat beads my face, glasses sliding down my nose. I trip again, skinning my hands and knees on the rough sand. I scramble back up, hearing the swing chains rattle as they dart through them. _

_They're laughing at me. My hair's in my face. I shove it back and sprint on. Under the big toy made of wood, darting through children playing games. They're close behind me. Close._

_I can hear them. I dart under the tornado slide and come out under the monkey bars, the ones for the younger kids that hang lower. I can see the fence. Once I jump over that and run another block I'm safe. Totally safe._

_Then two of them are in front of me, grinning. They were such well polished kids. Polos and long shorts. Hair-gel and too much cologne. That was about right for thirteen year olds. I was eight. I turned, ready to run again. My head collided with the thick metal of the monkey bars. _

_The other three faces swam above me when I fell. They grinned viciously, like hungry wolves._

_Being as young as I was and as smart as I was in the eighth grade was not a good idea. It had been this way since I started school. Too smart for my own good. I was starting high school next year, that would be worse. High school meant seniors, empty corridors and people a lot bigger than me. Bigger than these kids. _

_The biggest one grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. Blood ran into my eye from where my head collided with the bar. I struggled against them, my head pounding from the blow and the afternoon heat. I was punched in the mouth for my efforts. We were in the shadows, away from the other kids, in the least played area and the most obscured. I was trapped like an animal. And they were the predators to my kind. _

_They left me coughing in the dirt, blood dripping from my mouth, my nose, my head and my eye. They were laughing, sure to go tell everyone they knew that they beat up the twerpy nerd that had no chance fighting back against them. _

_I stood on trembling legs, holding my sides. My ribs hurt from their shoes. My head hurt worse. I picked up my glasses and felt tears in my eyes. I staggered to the back fence, bleeding, dirty, clothes ripped. It took me three tries to get up and over it. Once I did, I stumbled to my house, hanging my head, trying so very hard not to cry. _

_Dad was at work, but Mom would be home. Reading, most likely. She wasn't expecting me home for another hour. I pushed open the door, making sure to take of my dirty shoes on the rug. _

"_Spencer?" Mother's voice came from the living room. I walked into the room. She was still engrossed in her book. "Why are you home so early? Did you get hungry?"_

"_M-Mom." I said shakily. She looked up, and her amused smile turned to horror. She threw her book behind her and stood quickly, pushing my hair out of my face to look at the contusions. _

"_What happened to you?" She demanded._

"_M-Mom," I held up my shattered glasses. "I br-broke my glasses. I'm s-s-sorry." I couldn't hold the tears back now._

"_Shh…" Mom hugged me, stroking my hair. "They just don't understand how special you are. They'll see someday." I sobbed into her shirt, feeling bad that I was getting blood on it._

_I sobbed uncontrollably. This wasn't the first time I had been beaten up like this, and it wouldn't be the last._

_But it still hurt._

And Dean Winchester woke up crying.

--More soon!--


	7. Have a Little Faith

7

**Have a Little Faith**

_Faith is, at one and the same time, absolutely necessary and altogether impossible_

_-Stanislaw Lem_

Spencer said nothing about the dreams to Sam. And he tried his very hardest to forget them himself. But this was another question that he would like an answer to. But hopefully he would get it when he found the man walking around in his body.

They would be at Quantico soon. A couple of hours soon. He couldn't wait. Maybe when they saw each other again they'd change back. He wasn't sure how these sort of things work. But he had to have hope. That was all he had right now.

But Sam made it sound like this could be permanent. And he hoped not. He'd like to have his body back. Otherwise he credentials would mean nothing. If he didn't look like Spencer Reid then he wasn't, right? His FBI career would be over. So many things would be over. And he'd never be able to see his mother again.

He bowed his head, staring at his hands. This would be fixed. He'd work his whole life to find a way to switch them back if Sam and Dean didn't know how.

Sam said that when they found him he would call his friend Bobby to help them out. If anyone could figure out how to get rid of a curse it would be him. That comforted him a little.

But the horrifying thought that he wouldn't ever be him again was always in the back of his mind. And he had no idea what would happen to him if that was the case. It scared him. A lot.

"It'll be alright." Sam said, as if reading his mind.

"Huh?" He said, trying to play dumb.

"We'll figure this out, Spencer. You'll get your body back."

"I'm sure Dean wants his back as well." He assured. Sam nodded.

"Knowing him, probably." Sam said.

"So, what do you think the chances are that Dean leaves my female coworkers alone?" He asked. Sam snorted.

"Very, very, very slim. Microscopically slim." He said. Spencer sighed.

"Great."

* * *

Dean was sitting at the good doctor's desk when Morgan walked up, staring down at him with creased brows.

"Did I do something wrong?" Dean asked. He wasn't in the best of spirits, considering he'd had a terrible night sleep complete with awful nightmares that woke him hourly. He didn't really have time to deal with this guy's condescending glances.

"No." Morgan said.

"Then what the hell is your problem, dude?" He snapped. Morgan just looked at him. He stood walking around the desk. "You're wondering about last night, right?"

"Yeah. That was kind of a weird bombshell, man." Morgan stated. Dean nodded. He didn't blame him.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Hell no I don't believe you." Morgan said, folding his arms.

"So what, you think that I'm having a psychotic break, or something?" Dean asked. Morgan just looked at him. Dean sighed. "What can I do to prove it to you?"

Morgan pursed his lips and looked around, thinking. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.

"Alright, I will pay you a hundred dollars, and give her fifty, _and_ believe what you're telling me if and only if you kiss Emily." He said, smiling smugly. Dean nodded.

"Like an eighth grade kiss or nearly a make out kiss?" He asked.

"Nearly make out." Morgan said. He was sure that he'd won, that was why he was grinning.

"Show me the money." Dean demanded. Morgan reached in his wallet and pulled out three fifties. Dean snickered. Morgan had had this planned.

He snatched one of the fifties from him and walked toward Emily, who was chatting with J.J. and Garcia.

He sauntered over to her, cocky smirk in place.

Morgan's jaw had dropped, his eyes wide, disbelieving what he was seeing.

"Emily." Dean tapped her on the shoulder. She turned; a smile still on her face from Penelope's comment. It faded quickly when she saw him looking at her like that. Without another word he pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. Her eyes flew open, body tense. But slowly she relaxed, and actually kissed him back.

He cupped her face in his hands, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. She had totally melted at this point, her arms wrapped around his neck, leaning against him for support.

He pulled away from her, keeping his hands in place. Her eyes stayed closed for a moment. She opened them slowly, disbelief in her brown eyes.

"Thanks, Em." He said, handing her the bill and walking away.

"OH MY GAWD!" Garcia screamed.

"Did he just pay for a kiss?!" J.J. exclaimed.

"No!" Dean called back. "Morgan did!" Emily still hadn't moved, but her eyes moved to Morgan's face.

"What did you do?" Rossi asked, coming up next to him. "Dare him?"

"Yeah." Morgan said, still in shock.

"How much did you lose?"

"Hundred and fifty dollars." Morgan said. Rossi chuckled.

"I wonder what's gotten into Reid," He said curiously. "He's not acting like himself. And I think that proved it."

"I'd definitely say that."

Dean stopped in front of him, smiling triumphantly.

"Pay up, dude." He said, holding out his hand. Morgan handed him the money. Dean shoved it in his pocket, still grinning.

"Morgan!" Garcia whined. "Why didn't you dare him to kiss _me_?"

"Because you're mine, Sweetness." Morgan grinned. She blushed.

Emily shook her head, bringing herself back to planet Earth.

"Did…Did Reid just..?" She asked. J.J. nodded.

"Yes, yes he did."

"Wow." Emily sighed.

"Yeah?" J.J. asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Emily turned to her.

"Oh my god." She said, eyes wide. Garcia shook her head.

"Ladies, I think the apocalypse is at hand." She said.

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "The day Reid kisses me _and_ is phenomenal at it is definitely the day Jesus comes back."

* * *

"I need to speak with Dr. Reid." Spencer said, finding it odd to say his own name.

The woman grinned at him in a way that made him blush.

"Um…I, I really need to speak with him." He stammered. She grinned.

"He's on the third floor. Just head right on up." She said, gesturing to the elevator. Spencer walked to it, refusing to look at her again. Sam followed, barely catching the elevator.

"Does your brother have to deal with that all the time?" Spencer asked. "That's has to be a nightmare." Sam chuckled.

"Actually, he welcomes it. Enthusiastically." He said. Spencer shook his head.

"He's crazy." He said.

* * *

Dean was walking out of the bathroom when the elevator opened. And he could hardly believe his eyes when his little brother stepped out of the doors. Followed by his body.

"Hey!" Dean said, jogging toward them. It was strange to look at himself. And it was even stranger to see himself looking like this.

His hair was combed down and over at his part. The green button up shirt he wore a lot was actually buttoned, almost all the way up. He looked like a nerd. And it made him want to scream. This kid had made him look like a complete and utter D-O-R-K DORK!

And Spencer was equally as horrified. His body had been shoved into a pair of jeans that had shrunk after the first time he washed them. His red button up shirt was open to a black T-shirt that was also _way_ too tight. His hair was slicked back out of his face.

"What the hell did you do to me?!" Dean bellowed.

"What have you done to me?!" Spencer exclaimed.

"Dean?" Sam said, trying not to smile.

"Hey, Sammy, now what the hell did you do to my hair?!"

"What are you talking about, Reid?" Emily said behind them. The three of them stiffened. Morgan was behind Emily, his eyes wide in understanding.

"Holy crap." He whispered.  
"Seriously, what are you guys talking about?" Emily said.

Morgan stepped in front of her, his eyes trained on the shorter of the two strangers.

"Reid?"

"Hi, Morgan."

--More soon!--


	8. Most Wanted

8

**Most Wanted**

_Crime does not pay…as well as politics_

_-Alfred E. Newman_

"Dean," Sam said, stifling his laugh with little success. "Is that seriously you?"

"Don't you say a word, Sam." Dean growled.

"Hi, Morgan." Spencer said.

"What?!" Emily said, deeply confused.

"Oh my god, that's really you, kid, isn't it?" Morgan exclaimed. Spencer nodded.

"Who are they?" J.J. asked, coming up behind him. Spencer glanced at them. Dean sighed.

"How the hell did this happen?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not really sure. Weird though, huh?" Spencer said, smiling meekly. Morgan folded his arms over his chest.

"How do I know you're not just playin' with me?" He demanded.

"What are you guys talking about?" J.J. asked. Rossi, Hotch and Garcia joined the group as well. Spencer sighed.

"It's really hard to explain, J.J." He said. J.J. frowned.

"How do you know my name?" She asked.

"I wouldn't mind if he did." Garcia mumbled. Spencer grimaced.

"He's not Spencer Reid," Spencer said, pointing to Dean. Dean smiled lightly. "I am."

"What?" Five voices said. Dean shook his head.

"They aren't gonna believe you, dude." He said. Spencer frowned.

"I believe him," Morgan said. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Then who the hell is he?" Emily asked, jabbing her thumb in Dean's direction.

"This is Dean Winchester." Spencer said.

"And somehow, we've switched bodies." Dean said. Hotch shook his head.

"That's not possible, not rational…it's crazy!" He said.

"We can prove it!" Sam said.

"And who are you?" Rossi asked.

"My best guess would be the Jolly Green Giant." Garcia said. Dean stifled a laugh.

"I'm his brother." Sam said.

"If you can prove it, then go ahead," Hotch said. "Prove it."

"Ask me something only I would know." Spencer said.

"What teams were playing at that football game you and I went to?" J.J. blurted. Spencer blushed.

"The, uh, Vikings and the Redskins." He said.

"You went to a football game with J.J.?" Dean asked, grinning. "Kudos." Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Round Table Room, now." Hotch ordered. They followed him into the room in silence.

"How did this happen?" Hotch asked.

"We don't really know." Dean said.

"Okay, let me get this straight," Emily said. She looked at Spencer. "You're Reid," She said. She turned to Dean. "And you're, not." Dean nodded.

"If I was this much of a nerd I'd kill myself." He said. Spencer scowled at him.

"Great, I kissed a stranger." Emily said.

"WHAT?!" Spencer exclaimed. Dean winced.

"Don't make my voice go that high." He growled.

"Garcia, I want you to find out whatever you can on them." Hotch whispered. Garcia nodded and walked out of the room.

"Alright," Hotch said. "You three, stay here, and don't leave." He and the rest of the BAU –minus Spencer- left the room.

Hotch shook his head, leaning against a desk.

"You okay?" Rossi asked.

"This is just a little hard to swallow." He said.

"I think it is for all of us." He said.

"If…there's no other explanation. As strange as this is, that _is_ Reid. And that Dean person…he's not Reid. And no one acts this well. No one knows Reid that well besides his own mother." Hotch said.

"Then what's wrong?"

"People don't switch bodies in real life, Dave. This sounds like something from some story book. But…it happened."

"We hear about some pretty strange things ourselves. This can't be that big of a stretch." Rossi said.

"Are you saying this doesn't royally freak you out?" Hotch asked.

"No," Rossi said. "But…I don't know, I've heard weirder. I've just never seen it."

"Um, Hotch," Garcia said. Hotch turned. "I looked into the Winchester's like you told me to. Their mother died in a fire when Sam was a baby and Dean was four. Their father had been in the military as a Corporal. After their mother died they fell off the map. When they came back up…Dean Winchester is wanted for three counts of first degree murder. Sam is wanted for accessory." She finished quietly.

"What?" Emily asked. "He's a murderer?"

"According to this, he is." Penelope said.

"There's no way," Hotch said. "We've been around him for over twenty four hours and he's shown no signs of being a murderer, let alone a sadistic one."

"Who's handling the case?" Rossi asked.

"Henrickson." Garcia said. Rossi shook his head.

"He's overzealous about what socks he's wearing." He said.

"We should still talk to him." Hotch said.

"How would we explain to everyone else that we're interrogating one of our own?" Morgan said.

"We won't," Hotch said. "We'll talk to him in there." He gestured to the room behind him.

"I'll talk to him." Emily said. They stared at her.

"Prentice," Morgan said. "You know that the people he killed were women, right?"

"One, I don't think he killed anyone," She retorted. "And two, I know. Besides, he likes me."

She turned and headed for the round table room.

* * *

Dean leaned back in the chair, blowing air through his lips.

"Can you sit still for five minutes?" Spencer asked.

"Nope." Dean said. Spencer rolled his eyes.

"You should be on Ritalin." He mumbled. Dean glared at him.

"Nerd." He muttered.

"Neanderthal." Spencer retorted.

"Twerp." Dean spat.

"Whore." Spencer growled.

"What?!" Dean shouted. Sam laughed.

"Well you are," Spencer defended. "I've seen your phonebook in your phone. There's probably five numbers in it that aren't women."

"Well…That…I…" Dean stammered. "That's none of your business!" Sam was still laughing, but holding his sides now.

"Mm-hm, you're a whore."

"You know what? I'm gonna take my phone and shove it up your-"

"Dean?" Prentice said, entering the room, interrupting his rude comment. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Dean nodded and stood, following her out into the hallway.

"Is this about the kiss?" He smirked. She smiled back at him.

"No, I'll talk to you about that later," She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm saying this to Reid's face…" She mumbled. She sighed. "We saw your record, Dean."

"Oh shit." Dean said, his eyes growing. "Look, Em, I-"

"Hang on," She said, holding up her hands. "I just need to ask you a question. After I ask it I'll know whether you did it or not."

"That your, uh, profiling stuff?" He asked. She smiled.

"Yeah," She said. "Did you kill those people?"

"No," Dean answered immediately. "I swear to God, or Buddha, or anyone else out there, I didn't kill those women." A relieved smile passed over her face.

"Ok, I believe you." She said. He cocked his head, surprised.

"Really?" He asked. She nodded.

"Yeah, you're off the most wanted list with us." She said.

"But convincing everyone else is a little hard." Dean said. She nodded.

"Without forensic evidence or some hard proof, a profile doesn't really hold up in court." She said. He half smiled.

"Well, at least you know I didn't do it." He said.

"And, my opinion of you matters?" She asked. He smirked.

"More than you know, Em." He turned and walked back into the conference room.

--More soon!--


	9. Dirty Little Secrets

--Spoilers for Elephant's Memory this chap!--

9

**Dirty Little Secrets**

_Three make keep a secret, if two of them are dead_

_-Benjamin Franklin_

_My clothes left my body one piece at a time. Before humiliation could totally set in my back hit frigid, hard metal. God it was the goalpost. _

_A boy clamped his hand around my throat to hold me still. Someone else yanked my arms behind me, tying my wrists together so tight it drew blood. My heart was pounding so fast and so hard it hurt. I looked around wildly, waiting for the next blow. The boy let go of my throat just to hit me in the face. He stepped back. _

_The others were laughing, laughing their heads off. I swallowed my tears and drew myself in, trying to distance myself from these awful people. Someone threw a rock that me just above my eye. Blood ran into it, partially blinding me. And then they were on me again, hitting anything they could. _

"_Please! Please don't! No! AHH! P-please!" I begged myself hoarse. They did nothing. Time passed, too much time. The sun was starting to go down. Mom'll be wondering where I am, right?_

_A boy stepped forward. His turn to pound the twelve year old senior. I swallowed hard and shut my eyes._

"_FREAK!" The others called. That was all they seemed to be able to say._

"_FREAK!"_

"_FREAK!"_

"_FUCKIN' FREAK!" _

_I kept my eyes closed, focusing on breathing. The sound was rattling and labored. Maybe it was from them hitting me so hard in the ribs. Maybe it was from the near icy air around me. I don't know. I'm not a doctor._

_Something bit through my skin. I cried out, my eyes flying open. I looked down and saw the pocket knife. I looked at the boy._

"_Please," I pleaded. "Please, no. Not that, please! Please…" He chuckled and cut into my chest. I screamed. And screamed. And screamed._

_They laughed. And laughed. And laughed. _

_He sliced me like a piece of meat. I cried helplessly, trying to wriggle away from the blade. The cuts were small and shallow. Not deep enough to need stitches or send me to the hospital. But they hurt like no other. _

"_PLEASE! Please, stop!" Nothing happened. "HELP ME! SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP ME!" I screamed. The others watching just stood there, laughing at me. God, why wouldn't they help me? The blade was pushed against my throat. I whimpered._

"_You shut the hell up," The boy spat. His breath smelled like stale mint. "You scream like that again and I'll slice your throat right open." _

_I didn't scream like that again. He finished with me soon enough. And they beat me for several more hours. They hit, they cut, they threw, they spit, they laughed._

_They got bored. Finally. Thank god. They left me here, freezing, bound…and naked._

_I'd never been more ashamed in my life._

_I had to get out of here. I'd die by morning if I stayed here. I twisted my wrists, whimpering when pain jolted through my body. I kept twisting. My hands were so soaked in blood they slipped out of the ropes. I fell forward, sobbing. I looked around for any remnants of my clothes. I put on what was left of my underwear and my jeans. My shirt was a lost cause. _

_I limped home, keeping their voices and faces out of my mind by focusing on getting home and the pain. It worked._

_I walked through my front door, anticipating my frantic mother to come running at me. She'd see the state I was in and ask who did it. She'd hold me, tell me it was alright. She'd clean up the cuts. I'd spend the night in her arms on the couch, crying. _

_But nothing of the sort happened. I walked into the living room. My heart sank and shattered on the floor. _

_She was sitting on the couch, staring off into space, mumbling to herself. She didn't even see me._

_Tears trickled down my cheeks as I walked down the hall to the bathroom. _

_I stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the blood. But the memories couldn't go away like that. _

_I bandaged myself up, having a pretty good knowledge of how to do so. I used all the gauze we had and most of the peroxide, but I did it._

_The dry clothes felt good. My bed felt good. Safe. Warm. _

_I felt horrible. Ashamed, humiliated, dehumanized, alienated and scared. _

_I curled into a ball, clutching my pillow. I cried into it, pretending it was my mother. _

"They just don't understand,"_ She would say._ "But they'll see one day. Shh…it's okay, baby. It's okay." _But she wasn't here. I was alone. All alone. And I wouldn't tell her what happened. Ever. She couldn't know. I cried myself to sleep. And I stayed home the next day. I had a fever. She asked what happened to my eye and my wrists. I told her I fell in Gym on the track. The rough ground scraped my wrists pretty good, and I hit my head when I fell. She bought it. I told no one about it, nobody. Maybe one day I'd forget._

_

* * *

_

_I shut the door to Sammy's room quietly, not wanting to wake him up. I walked down the hallway and into the kitchenette, putting the dishes in the sink to wash. Daddy was sitting at the table, looking through his journal, drinking. _

_He was close to being drunk. I hated it when he drank. It wasn't good for him. But a hunt had gone bad. A kid about Sammy's age was killed before he could kill the ghost. Almost as soon as he got home he picked up that bottle. Sam stayed in the tiny living room, watching Thundercats and coloring. _

_I rinsed Sam and mine's plates from dinner, setting them on the counter to dry. I started a pot of coffee while I was grabbing a dishtowel for the plates. _

"_Did you eat today, Daddy?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. He shook his head. "You want something?" He shook his head again. I turned back to the dishes, toweling off the drops of water on the cups. _

_I filled one of them with coffee and set it down on the table. I grabbed the whiskey bottle around the neck, readying to take away from him. He grabbed my wrist._

"_Drop it, boy." He ordered. I let it go and went back over to the sink without looking at him. I kept my head down, my eyes on the soapy water. _

"_Dean," Dad said in a low voice. "Where'd the candy come from?" I winced. _

"_Me and Sam went to the gas station down the road." I mumbled. _

"_You left?!" He barked. I flinched. We weren't supposed to leave without him here. I was gonna go myself, but I wasn't supposed to leave Sam alone, either. Sam had had a bad day at school. I was trying to cheer him up a little. And it helped. _

"_It was just for a minute." I said quietly. He stood, coming around the table to face me. I stood in front of him, trying to keep my face blank._

"_What have I told you about leaving, boy?!" He bellowed. I glanced at Sam's door, praying he would stay asleep. _

"_It was just for a second, Daddy, we came right back-"_

"_What if something would have happened to Sam?!" _

"_I'm sorry, Daddy, I-"_

"_What were your orders?!" _

"_To not leave the room without you here. But Daddy, I-"_

"_And what did you do?!" _

"_We left. But Dad-" _

_A brick wall hit me in the face. I went sprawling onto the cracked linoleum, my vision blurred with spots of white light. When my sight cleared he was standing over me, his fist still raised. He looked down at me, his eyes wide. _

_Tears filled my eyes but I fought them. _

_My mind was still trying to register what had happened. Dad hit me. Dad _hit_ me. I waited for him to say something. I waited for another order. _

"_Go to bed." He whispered. I scrambled up as fast as I could and ran down the hallway. I shut the door quietly behind me. Can't wake up Sammy._

_I climbed into bed, burying myself under the covers. I touched my throbbing cheek, tears slipping from my eyes. I realized a second later I was shaking. _

_Daddy hit me. He hit me 'cause I disobeyed. I deserved that. He should have hit me. Something could have happened to Sammy. Something could have hurt him. And it would have been all my fault. _

"_I'm sorry, Daddy," I whispered, my voice shaky from me crying. "I'll be good. I'll be a good soldier. Then you won't hate me. Right, Daddy? If I'm a good soldier you won't hate me. I'll be good." I cried into the pillow, cried hard. Cried hard enough my throat and sides hurt. _

_I wanted Mommy. She's been dead for four years, but I wanted Mommy. She'd know what to do. She'd know what to say. She'd know just what to say to make me feel better, even though Daddy was right to hit me. _

_I would keep this a secret. It would just be between me and Daddy. Sammy could never know. And Daddy would _never_ hit Sammy. I wouldn't let him. He'd hit me instead. _

_Sammy can't know, Sammy can't know…_

"_I'll be good, Daddy. I'll be good…"_

_He didn't say anything about it the next morning. While I was making Sammy's cereal he asked if my cheek was okay from where I hit it on the counter last night. _

_I said yeah, it just hurt a little. _

_We were leaving for school like normal. I zipped up Sammy's jacket and opened the door. Daddy bent down and kissed Sam on the head and told him to be good at preschool. Sammy smiled and said:_

"'_Kay, Daddy. I vill." He turned to me. I tried not to wince. He hugged me tight and whispered just loud enough for me to hear:_

"_I'm sorry, Dean. I swear to you it will _never_ happen again." _

_I nodded and led Sammy out the door. _

_I was right, this would be mine and Daddy's secret._

--For the John fans out there, i apologize. Feedback, please!--


	10. The Courage to Cry

10

**The Courage to Cry**

_Courage is fear that has said its prayers_

_-Dorothy Bernard_

Dean and Spencer sat up at the same time. Tears on their faces that were wiped away quickly at the knowledge of other presence in the room. They turned and looked at each other, at the other's reaction that mirrored their own.

"You gettin' 'em too?" Dean asked, his voice shaking. He watched his own head nod as Spencer gave his response.

"What have you seen?" He whispered. Dean bowed his head. He didn't want to talk about this. He hadn't told anyone this was going on, either. But it was just him and Spencer in this room.

The BAU team thought it only best that they stay at Quantico for the time being. And that they had to stay in this vacant office, using blankets and pillows that were kept for emergencies. They weren't sure which of the agents were still here, if any, and Dean had told Sam to go ahead to a motel, that he would be fine here without him. Sam bitched about it for about ten minutes before he gave in to Dean's requests.

So it made Dean feel a little better to think that he and Spencer were alone and had privacy. And that no one would hear this besides them.

"The first time I, uh…I saw you, I assume, and you were running at this park. Ran through the swings and by these monkey bars. These guys were chasing you. You tried to run, but you hit your head. They beat the shit out of you and broke your glasses. This time…" He swallowed. "This time, these kids tied you to this goal post. They beat you up. One kid cut you up pretty good. And…And these others spit in your face. And you went home. Your mom…your mom wasn't right. She didn't even know you were home. You patched yourself up and went to bed. And you-"

"Enough!" Spencer snapped. But it wasn't because he was angry. It was almost like he was begging. His head was bent, eyes on his hands. Dean couldn't see his face in dim light, not fully, but he heard him sniff.

"Did…Did that really happen to you?" He asked. Spencer nodded and wiped his eyes. "Alright, your turn." Dean said softly.

"Um…You, you were in your house. Your mom…She was on the ceiling. Your dad gave you your brother and you ran outside with him. You waited for your dad and your mom to come out of the house. Only your dad did. And you didn't understand why. Then I saw you…you put your brother to bed. Your dad was drunk. You told him that you and Sam went to the gas station down the street. And he hit you. You cried yourself to sleep." Spencer looked up at him.

"You truly think he hit you because he hated you, don't you?"

Dean threw his walls up quicker than anything, locking up his emotions tight, shutting himself down from the situation. Too bad it wasn't with the body he was used to. It wasn't the heart he was used to.

"Yes," He said flatly. "I used to." Spencer shook his head.

"You're lying," He said. "I know my voice when it lies, even if I'm not using it." Dean flexed his jaw.

"So what if I did? So what if I thought the only way to make my dad happy was to talk less and listen more? So what if my dad _beat it_ into my head that the only way to get his approval was to be the best 'soldier' I could be? So what if I stepped out of line he didn't speak to me for God knows how long? So what if the last thing he told me before he died was I might have to kill my little brother? So what if the only time he told me he was proud of me was when he was about to die?! SO WHAT IF HE DIED FOR ME AND LEFT ME TO FEEL LIKE I HAD KILLED HIM MYSELF?! SO WHAT IF I FELT LIKE I DIDN'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO _LIVE?!"_

"Did you ever talk to Sam about this?" Spencer asked.

Dean grabbed Spencer's shirt out of reflex, bringing his face close to his.

"Don't you tell him about any of this," He threatened. "I swear to God if you do…"

"I won't, I wasn't going to, calm down." Spencer said. Dean dropped Spencer's shirt as if it had burned him. He ran his hand over his face.

"I'm sorry," He said. "I didn't mean to do that. I just…"

"You don't like talking about these things," Spencer said. "I understand. I don't like it either." There was a lapse of silence between the two men that had so little in common but were so greatly connected. They were lost in their own thoughts, wondering about the mystery of each other. They may have been in the other's body, but they didn't understand the other. They didn't understand their way of thinking, or their reasoning behind their decisions. But Dean was going to try and understand the young genius beside him.

"You seriously never told your mom about what happened?" He asked. Spencer shook his head.

"It wouldn't have done any good. She would have freaked out and acted irrationally. I kept it to myself." He said.

"You never told anybody?" Dean asked. Spencer shook his head.

"No. I…I thought one day I'd forget, if I didn't think about it. But, I feel like it happened yesterday."

"You think about it a lot?" Dean asked quietly.

"I try not to but…" He took in a shaky breath. "I do think about it. I have every day since it happened." Spencer bowed his head.

"I'm sorry." Dean said.

"About what?" Spencer asked, confused.

"That that happened to you when you were just a kid."

"You were hunting monsters when that was happening to me, and _you're_ the one apologizing?" He asked.

"Yeah, but we knew what we were doing. And nothing like that has _ever_ happened to me, or Sam either, for that matter." He said.

"But you were dealing with things I never thought existed, things that scare most kids half to death. And you didn't even flinch."

"Don't make me sound like a hero, I'm not." Dean said, then chuckled lightly.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"We could sit here and feel sorry for ourselves all night." He said. Spencer laughed too.

"Yeah, we could."

"I don't wanna do that, do you?" He asked. Spencer shook his head.

"I'd rather not, actually." Dean sighed, glancing at his watch, well, Spencer's watch. His didn't fit him at the moment.

"I'm going back to bed." He said, lying down. Spencer nodded and followed suit.

"Let's keep this conversation just between you and me." He said. Dean nodded.

"I promise." He said.

He tried to keep slow his breathing to give the impression he was asleep.

He lay there for a long time, not knowing if the man about ten feet away was asleep or not.

Things had changed since Dean was eight years old. He no longer thought his father hated him, at least after he had decided to be better. He no longer thought his mother could fix everything. And he had perfected the art of crying silently.

And Spencer was an expert in this field as well. They were so good at it, in fact, that the other didn't notice.

--Aww, sad. : ( Feedback please : )--


	11. Calm in the Storm

--Sorry it's been forever since I posted anything. Uber busy.--

11

**Calm in the Storm**

_If you want peace, stop fighting. _

_If you want peace of mind, stop fighting with your thoughts_

_-Peter McWilliams_

Dean and Spencer made a silent agreement not to speak of their conversation last night at least for as long as they lived. They acted as if nothing had happened, another art they had made themselves experts in over the years.

They weren't sure what the day would hold for them. Sam said he would look anywhere and everywhere he could think of to try and find a way to break the curse, if it was a curse.

Spencer was still trying to process the fact that these evil things existed. And he was sure it was the same for the rest of the BAU. Spencer would most likely have been as cynical as they were, if he hadn't seen a ghost with his own eyes. And now he would listen to whatever the Winchesters told him and believe them. Neither one of them had lied to him yet, and he would trust them until they did.

Dean sat down on the corner of Emily's desk, watching her read through the thick file in her hand. She glanced up at him and sighed.

"Stop looking at me like that." She said. He smirked, deciding to play dumb.

"Like what?" He said, trying to sound innocent. She smiled against her will and looked up at him again.

"Like that," She said pointedly. He grinned down at her mischievously. "Don't you have anything better to do?" She sighed. He shook his head.

"No. I don't work here and you guys won't let me go anywhere. So I'm gonna bug you." He said.

"And why on Earth would you do that?" She said. His grin broadened.

"Because you're fun to bug. And I know you like me." He said.

"You have to be the most annoying friend alive." She grumbled.

"I didn't mean friend." He said wryly. She blushed against her will.

"That…I…I'm working, go away." She huffed, frazzled. Dean giggled.

"Admit that you like me and I will." He said, smiling smugly and folding his arms. She glared up at him, an echo of a smile on her lips.

"And if I don't?" She challenged.

"I will bug you until you do. And trust me, I can be very annoying." He said. She smiled playfully at him.

"Never would have guessed." She said.

Before Dean could say anything else Hotch came out of his office, gaining their attention.

"Grab your go bags," He said. "We're going back to Rehobeth."

"What?" Morgan said.

"The governor wanted us out of there, why would he want us back?" J.J. asked.

"He wanted to bring in the state police so it looked like he was getting something done in his term. But as soon as we left five more people were killed. Two black men and one woman, and two more Hispanic women." Hotch explained.

"Does that mean I have to ride on a plane again?" Dean mumbled. Emily nodded.

"Reid, Sam, you're coming with us," Hotch said. "I'm still not completely sure what's going on with the two of you but I think it's best if you stay together. Garcia you're coming too."

"As much as I love field trips, can I ask why?" Penelope asked.

"There's been some electrical problems and files that have disappeared from computers. You have the ability to recover those files."

"Damn straight I can," She said, grinning. "I'll get a bag, sir."

"My car's gonna be okay in this lot, right?" Dean asked, panicky.

"It'll be fine." Morgan assured.

"We should grab our own stuff," Sam said. "In case something freakish happens." Dean could tell there was a hidden motive behind Sam's words. It was a code they had with each other, passed down from their father. "Freakish" was Winchester for, "I need to talk to you".

Dean nodded and followed Sam into the parking garage.

"Aw, hey there, Baby," He grinned, running his hand over the trunk. "God, I missed you." Sam popped the trunk open and grabbed the spare duffel in the back.

"Dean," Sam said, taking his older brother's attention from his beloved car. "There's a job in Rehobeth. I saw the ghost myself. And the people that are dying in that town are dying in the swamp. Or, in some places, where they've drained the swamp to make room for housing."

"And the swamp was where Joseph Rehobeth disappeared, right?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"The house is haunted by Elizabeth. The swamp's haunted by Joseph." Sam said.

"And that might not be it. He went postal on all of his slaves, right?" Dean said.

"Yeah. I haven't been back there and no one's been killed, as far as I know." He said. Dean nodded and started packing the essentials. Holy water, salt, chalk for devil's traps, shot guns, rock salt shells, and the good ol' .45s.

"You think they go through customs on a private jet?" Dean asked, smiling. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he smiled back anyway. He hated to admit it, but he had missed his brother.

"If they ask we can just tell them it's part of the job." Sam said. Dean shook his head.

"Do we blab the truth too much?" He said.

"What?" Sam said. "No."

"I don't think Dad told more than ten people, ever. And we told seven." Dean said pointedly.

"If we hadn't they would have arrested us. I'd be in maximum security and you'd be on Death Row." Sam said. Dean nodded.

"True, very true. And you would not survive in prison, Sammy." He chuckled. Sam smirked.

"Neither would you in that body." He said.

"Bitch." It was very strange to hear a different voice calling him that.

"Jerk."

* * *

Sam also thought it was strange to see his brother's face remaining totally calm on plane, and the man his brother was currently residing in was freaking out. As soon as the plane took off Sam watched his demeanor change. His whole body tensed, his fingers clenched the armrests, turning white, his eyes closed. Sam was sure if he listened hard enough he'd be able to hear "Enter Sandman" or "Turn the Page" being hummed. Emily walked from the back of the plane where the rest of the FBI agents, Spencer included, were talking light heartedly, and sat down next to Dean.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Don't like planes." Dean mumbled. Emily smiled lightly, stifling a giggle.

"Look at me," She said gently. Dean dared to let his eyes open, making sure to look directly at Emily and not out the small window behind her. "Talk about something."

"Like what?" He said, his voice still quiet to keep it from shaking.

"I don't know, anything." She said.

"You start." He said, voice strained.

"Okay…What is it exactly that you and Sam do?"

And it lifted off from there. Dean told her about their job and answered her questions honestly. Why they started, where their dad was now, and now they were on a subject Dean didn't want to talk about.

"So what happened?" Emily prompted. "You were running at Sam and that Jake guy came up behind him, then what?" Dean looked at the floor. He didn't want to answer this question.

"Uh, I shot the guy," He said, glancing up at his brother. "And Sam and I walked out of there." She stared at him, reading his face. Reid was a bad liar. Dean was far more skilled, but she could see the tell tale signs of a lie. And she wondered whether this was one she could push.

"You know, with my job, I can tell when people lie. I'm very good at it, actually." She explained. He frowned at the floor.

"Em, I…it's just better if you don't know the truth on that. I haven't lied to you about anything you've asked me. But I can't tell you about that, alright?" He said truthfully. She nodded.

"Okay. I'm alright with that."

And they talked some more. About everything. Music, TV, books- that segment didn't last very long- anything else they could think of.

When the plane landed Dean was surprised. He had completely forgotten he was flying in the first place. Emily smiled at his reaction.

And she admitted something to herself that she might never admit to Dean. She really did like him. And not as a friend either.

--Ooh, Emily likey :D More soon!--


	12. Mouths Agape in Disbelief

12

**Mouths Agape in Disbelief**

_Cynicism is an unpleasant way of saying the truth_

_-Lillian Hellman_

Garcia had been dropped off at the station a little while ago. When they were getting ready to leave she frowned, folding her arms in an over exaggerated pout.

"How come I gotta stay here with the icky computers and J.J. and Emily get to hang out with the hotties?" She whined, glancing at Sam and Spencer. Morgan put his hands on his hips, looking at her expectantly.

"You've been replaced." J.J. whispered, patting Morgan's shoulder. He shook his head.

"Women." He mumbled.

"They'll be back soon enough, Garcia." Hotch said stiffly. Dean sighed, slumping his shoulders.

"Man, when someone as adorable as Penny checks my body out I wanna be in it." He grumbled. Spencer blushed, adverting Garcia's gaze. Sam chuckled and looked at the floor.

"Garcia," Morgan said. Her gaze stayed on the boys, pen in her mouth, looking dazed. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Get to work on those computers, Baby Girl." She made a whining sound before she sat at the desk and began typing away.

They turned and headed out of the station. Morgan was frowning, looking at the ground.

"Aww," Emily cooed. "Is Morgan jealous?"

"Shut up." He snapped.

Emily and J.J. giggled. Dean shook his head.

"God, I can't wait 'til I'm back in my non dorky body." He said.

"I can't wait 'til I'm out of this walking vending machine," Spencer retorted. "I can barely fit through doorways with these things." He flexed his arms.

"Please warn us before you do that." Emily said, pleaded, actually.

Spencer bit his lip.

Dean smirked.

"Impressive, huh?" He said, waggling his eyebrows. Emily blushed. Sam and Spencer rolled their eyes.

"Just shut up and get in the car." Morgan growled. Dean barked a laugh.

Now they were standing at a crime scene, looking at where the bodies had been previously. Sam and Dean were armed with their own weapons, considering they were on the edge of the swamp.

"This doesn't make any sense," Spencer said. "The Hispanic women were killed in their houses or where they worked. The African American men were killed around the same area. As were the Caucasian man and woman."

"It's like there's two different unsubs." Rossi stated. Hotch and Morgan nodded.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"But what are the odds of two serial killers in one small town?" J.J. asked.

"Very, very small," Spencer said. "Less than five percent small."

"Will you stop it?" Dean shuddered. "You're making me sound like a total nerd."

"And you're making me sound like an illiterate imbecile. But you don't hear me complaining, now do you?" He said. Dean scowled.

"I swear to God if I figure out what the hell you just said I'm gonna kick your ass." He growled. Spencer tried not to laugh. He wasn't that successful.

"Do you two have any ideas?" Emily asked, genuinely curious. Sam and Dean glanced at each other again.

"You…Most likely you won't be able to absorb what we tell you," Sam said. "You can ask Spencer, it's kind of something you have to see to truly understand." Spencer nodded.

"Humor us, then." Rossi said. Dean sighed.

"We aren't real sure where the Spanish chicks come in," He said. Spencer winced. "But we think that the black men and the white man and woman were killed by…ghosts."

Their expressions of skepticism and attempted understanding were expected.

"Told ya so." Sam said. Dean nodded.

"Guys," Spencer began. "I know it's a lot to swallow, and you can't even come to terms with it. But trust me, I've seen a ghost with my own two eyes. And Sam stopped it from…well I'm not real sure what she was gonna do." He finished quietly, embarrassed. Dean shook his head.

"Amateur." He scoffed.

"Whore." Spencer spat. Morgan laughed. Dean scowled. Hotch and Rossi, as usual, did nothing.

"I still can't swallow this ghost stuff." Emily said.

"Yeah," Rossi said. "Me too."

"It's not that we don't believe you," Hotch said. "But…"

"Don't worry," Dean said. "We totally understand." The profilers returned back to the crime scene.

"Do you think we have enough to get a decent profile?" Rossi asked. Hotch nodded.

"I think so. As long as we leave the other seven bodies out."

"Which the press will have a field day with." J.J. said pointedly. Hotch sighed.

"How in the world are we going to explain that one?" He said.

"We don't usually deal with that part." Sam admitted.

"He-ey, uh, guys?" J.J. said in a squeaky voice. "Do, uh, ghosts blink in and out? Like a bad signal?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "How'd you guess?"

J.J. raised her arm and pointed into the swamp. The Winchester's turned. The SSAs followed suit, and all of them went as pale as J.J. was.  
What Sam and Dean assumed was Joseph Rehobeth was glaring back at them, his body covered in whatever filth and vermin the swamp had to offer, green moss in his teeth and hair, eyes murky and hungry for blood. His snarl made J.J. and Emily yelp.

Sam and Dean reacted quickly, drawing their sawn offs and firing at the apparition.

Joseph disappeared as soon as the salt touched his ectoplasmic body.

The boys turned back to the agents.

Spencer was shaking his head, trying to get his adrenaline under control. Morgan looked flabbergasted and frustrated. Emily merely stared, open mouthed, unable to move. Rossi bent behind a nearby tree and puked. Hotch yelled over and over again: "Oh my God!" And J.J., as soon as Dean looked at her, fainted.

* * *

A couple Aspirin and an ice pack later J.J. was headache free. The BAU team sat in office chairs at the station, silent, lost in their own thoughts.

Sam and Dean stood awkwardly in front of them, waiting for the first question to pop up.

"This is real." Emily said.

"Yeah, Em. More real than you know." Dean nodded.

"How is this possible?" Hotch asked softly.

"We have no idea," Sam shrugged. "All we know is we have to kill it when it starts killing us."

"You two have done this your whole lives?" J.J. asked.

"Nearly." The boys said in unison. There was a lapse of silence throughout the room. Morgan's arms were folded, his brow creased. Emily was still in shock. J.J. rested her aching head in her hands. And Rossi still looked ill.

There was a ring that made everyone jump, including the owner. Sam smiled sheepishly as he pulled out his phone. He walked over to the side and flipped it open.

"Hey, Bobby," He said. "Thanks for calling me back."

"Yeah," A gruff voice answered. "Sorry about that. Had to wrap up this whole Ghoul thing in Georgia."

"Oh thank God! You're close then." He said.

"What are you talkin' about?" Bobby asked. Sam explained the current predicament. Bobby chuckled.

"Alright, I'll be there by morning. God, you boys are gonna be the death of me."

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam said, smiling.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." The line went dead. Sam shut the phone, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Bobby on his way?" Dean asked hopefully. Sam nodded.

"Yes!" Dean exclaimed. "God I hope he can fix this."

"Yeah," Spencer said. "So do I."

--More soon ladies and germs!--


	13. Love Hurts

13

**Love Hurts**

_There is no remedy to love but to love more_

_-Henry David Thoreau_

Garcia bounced through the station, munching on a bag of chips she had retrieved from a vending machine. She walked past the lobby and stopped, chip halfway in her mouth. She looked around at the other FBI agents. Sam and Spe-, Dean (she was still having trouble remembering that) were talking in hushed tones to one another while the rest of the agents sat staring off into space, looking thoroughly freaked out.

"What's up with you guys?" She asked. These guys had seen awful things, things that made Penelope shudder and look away from her computer screens. And something had freaked all of them out. Including expressionless Hotch. But Spencer, to Garcia's shock, seemed relatively calm, which was completely wrong in a freak out situation.

"You guys look like your cat got run over by the ice cream man." She said, looking around at them. They looked up at, as if realizing that they were still here with each other.

"We've had a really weird day, Garcia." Hotch said.

"Are we after some new kind of sick puppy or what?" She asked.

"No. Typical puppy. But we did see something we've never seen before." Emily said.

"So…should I call a therapist or Ripley's?" She asked quietly. Dean and Sam looked at each other. There was no way those agents could explain what they saw. Hell, they probably didn't _know_ what they saw.

"Penny," Dean said. She tried not to blush every time he said that. She was getting better, but hadn't completed the task. "C'mere a sec." She trotted over to him.

"We have to tell you something that you might not like." Sam said.

"And we're only telling you this because we need to keep you safe." Dean said. She nodded.

"What do you think about ghosts?" Sam said.

"Um…I think they're something out of a Goosebumps book and need to stay that way," She said nervously. "Why?"

"Well…" Dean began. And they told Garcia what they had told to everyone in the past about ghosts, what they did for a living, and how the hell Dean ended up in Spencer's body.

They expected a good freak out. Lots of yelling and threats to call someone to "help" them. But they didn't know Penelope Garcia.

"That's really what you guys do?" She asked. Warily Sam and Dean nodded. "That is _so_ cool!"

The brothers glanced sideways at each other.

"I mean you guys are like, the Ghostbusters, only cooler! And _way_ freakin' hotter than Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray." She said cheerily, smiling.

Sam and Dean were sure their jaws had dropped. She giggled.

"I take it you guys don't get that reaction a lot." She said.

"No," Dean said, shaking his head back and forth. "We _never_ get that reaction." She smiled.

"Well, consider me a breed of my own." She said. Dean grinned.

"We already do, Penny. Trust me on that one."

* * *

_The ground is wet and smells like rain. Thunder rumbles in the background as mud cakes my boots with each step, sawn off in hand. I'm here for one thing and one thing only, my little brother._

"_SAAM!" I bellow into the night. I know he's here. He _has_ to be here. He's here. He's here._

_Then I see him. Walking toward me, holding his arm. I swear to God if he's hurt…_

"_Sam," I said, so relieved to see him back in my sight. I had lost him at that diner out of my own stupidity, but now he was back. I had him back. _

"_Dean," He said, looking just as relieved as I was. He was so close to being safe again. Just a few more yards, just a few._

_That's when the guy came up behind him with the knife. Sam didn't see him, oh God, Sammy didn't see him!_

"_Sam, look out!" It was too late. The blade went in so easy. Everything slowed to a crawl. Sam's face screwed up in pain and cried out. A horrible crunch reached my ears as I ran at what seemed like a snail's pace._

"_NOOOOO!" The knife was withdrawn; time sped up again. Sammy fell to his knees. The guy took off and Bobby ran after him. Sam was groaning in relief rather than pain. _

_I collapsed in front of him, trying to keep the vomit in my throat down. My heart was pounding, mind going a million miles per minute, hands shaking. _

_Sammy was pale, his eyes drooping when I grabbed the front of his jacket in both desperation and trying to steady him. _

"_Sam." I said gruffly. I refused to believe that something bad had happened to him. I would _not_ believe it. He was fine. He was fine. He was fine…_

_His muscles went lax in my arms, his head lolling._

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa," I eased us both further down as he threatened to fall over. "Whoa, Sam," His eyes were closed even though he was fighting to keep them open. His head rested on my shoulder. "Sam, Sam, hey!" Bobby was running, I could hear his footsteps. I didn't care. I cared that Sammy was getting paler and paler, his eyes dimming, unable to speak, his breathing barely even there. My throat started to close._

"_C'mere," I hugged him to me. It can't be that bad. Can't be. Sammy'll be fine. He'll be fine. "C'mere, let me look at ya." I felt the blood leaking from his back. God my little brother's blood was on my hands. I tried not to shudder with little success and eased his head back up, one hand on his cheek._

"_Hey, look, look at me," He couldn't. He couldn't move! I met his eyes. "It's not even that bad," I lied. To myself, to him. I couldn't accept it. SAMMY WAS FINE! "It's not even that bad, alright?" His eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at me, mouth open, trying to breathe. No, Sammy, no! _

_He was fading fast. I was watching him die! And I wasn't DOING ANYTHING! There has to be a way. There has to be some way I can save him!_

"_Sammy?" Maybe if I got him to look at me. "Sam! Hey," Barely there, barely listening to me. For god's sake, Sammy, stay with me. Stay with me little brother, please! I met his eyes again. "Listen to me we're gonna patch ya up, okay?" He fought to keep his head up. He was fighting for his life and I was sitting her talking! But…what else could I do? "You're gonna be good as new, huh?" _

_God, please, Sammy, look at me! Fight it! Fight it, Sammy! I can fix this. I can fix this. I can try. I coaxed his face back up. Maybe if he saw me he'd fight harder. He looked so damn tired. _

"_I'm gonna take care of you, I'm gonna take care of you. I gotcha." Don't cry. No matter how hard it is you can't cry. You'll scare him if you do! Don't cry._

"_That's my job right?" I asked, voice shaky. I tried to smile even though the pain in my chest right now was unbearable. My job. This was my job, my order, and I fucked it up! Sammy, PLEASE! "Watch after my pain in the ass little brother?" My baby brother. My world. I tried to smile, tried to make sure he knew it would be okay. His eyes closed. My smile faded immediately. "Sam? Sam." I cradled his face in my hands. Open your eyes, Sammy. Open your eyes, PLEASE! "Sam?" My voice shook. The walls I had built so carefully were crumbling right now. And I felt the life leave him. I watched it fade from his eyes, bleeding away with the blood on his back. "SAMMY!" He was gone. As I looked in his face I knew. I could feel it. _

"_No," My voice was quiet, shattered. "No, no, no, no, no. Oh, God!" I hugged him. Hugged his lifeless body, trying not to remember him smiling at me just a few minutes ago. "Oh, God!" _

_No, not my Sammy. Not my Baby brother, please! You can't have him too! You hear me? YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM TOO! First Mom, then Dad…Now…No. No he can't have Sam. That Yellow Eyed son of a bitch can't take Sammy away from me! I touched his hair, tangling my fingers in it. The tears were coming, almost there. The lump in my throat hurt so bad. I knelt there, holding his dead body, my fingers clenching his jacket, begging for some sign of life. _

_I held him as tightly as I could. Hell, I covered the wound on his back as if it would help now. _

_The tears started to come. _

_He couldn't take my Sammy too! IT'S NOT FAIR! YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM! My baby brother…_

"_SAAAAAAM!" My voice echoed through the barren buildings. I started to sob, burying my face in his hair. His face was already cold. _

_Sammy, my baby brother, the one thing in this world that I had left was gone. Just gone. Dead. _

"_Sammy…"_

* * *

Spencer sat up, one hand over his chest, feeling the broken pieces lying there somewhere, sobs fresh in his throat.

"Spencer," Someone said. "Hey, man, it's okay." Sam knelt down in front of him, concern in his eyes.

Without full awareness of what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around Sam, hugging him tightly. He cried against him, thanking whatever God that might be there that he was okay.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Sam asked, scared. Spencer couldn't answer, and it was a long time before he could gain enough composure to do so.

"I s-saw, something. I d-don't know if Dean w-wants me to tell you," He said, voice trembling, face still wet. He'd never been more happy to see someone breathing in his life.

A sudden idea dawned on him, horrible recognition.

"Oh God," He whispered. "Dean."

--Uh-oh! Yeah, I know, the nightmares suck but u guys seem to b ok with it, right? Feedback please!--


	14. Hell is for Children

--Thank you Myers1978!--

14

**Hell is for Children**

-_You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: _

_Make use of suffering_

_-Henri-Frederic Amiel _

_My foot still hurt. I probably couldn't walk on it it hurt so bad. I hadn't seen him in hours, any of the three for that matter. It was a calm before a storm, I knew that. And it was confirmed when the door opened._

_My heart sped and my hands started to shake as I looked up at him. Not Tobias, not Raphael, but Tobias's father. _

"_You ready to confess, boy?" He asked. I shut my eyes for a second. _

"_I haven't done anything." I said, trying to keep my voice even. He glared down at me, his face filled with hate. I had no idea what this man would get out of me telling him my sins. And to be honest, I couldn't think of any classifiable sins. I was trying, going through every aspect of the Bible that I could. I could make something up, but that would be giving into him. And I wasn't about to do that. And if he saw through my lie…_

"_LIAR!" He boomed, making me jump and tremble harder. _

"_I-I'm not lying. I swear…please." I said quietly. He seemed even more enraged. Suddenly he lunged at me, undoing the belt that held my handcuffs to the chair. He grabbed the collar of my shirt and threw me to the floor. I landed on my side, coughing. My heart hammered harder and harder to the point of hurting. _

_Then something hit my back. Hard. Hard enough to roll me on my stomach. I yelped in pain. It hit me again. And again. And again. _

"_CONFESS!" It struck me again. My back arced away from it. I felt tears well in my eyes. Again. I screamed. _

"_CONFESS!" Again. Again. "CONFESS!" A few tears leaked out from under my eyes._

"_I-I haven't done any-anything," I whimpered. "P-please!" This time he kicked me. His steel toed boot slammed against my ribs. The tears fell faster. The hard object hit my back again. _

"_CONFESS!" I started to sob, curling into myself. It didn't stop. _

"_Please! Please, I hav-haven't done anything!" God, he was going to break my back. He kicked me again, rolling me onto my back. I looked up at him, his face red and filled with hate and disgust. _

"_Confess, boy." He growled dangerously. I would not give into him. Not like this. I'd been bullied my whole life. I could take this. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. _

"_I d-didn't do an-anything." I choked. I saw it coming and I turned my head. That didn't make it hurt any less. It slammed into my shoulder. I screamed again, crying harder. I couldn't help it. Again. Again. Again. Again. God, help me!_

"_P-please!" I begged. "St-stop!" He didn't. I ended up on my stomach again, coughing, not trying to get away from it anymore. I didn't have the strength. I didn't have the will. I screamed myself hoarse, crying until I thought I didn't have any tears left. His constant yells for me to confess made me jump and shudder. I thought my foot hurt, now my whole body was outshining it._

_Suddenly the beating stopped. He grabbed a handful of my hair and hoisted my face up. _

"_Confess." He hissed. I shook my head. He growled in anger and pulled me up by my injured shoulder. He tossed me into the chair and redid the belt. He turned away and walked out of the cabin without another word. _

_I sobbed into my hands, still trembling. The door opened again. I tensed and kept my head down. God, what was he going to do?_

"_Oh my god." A familiar voice said. A hand touched the back of my head. I looked up to see the man who had just beaten me was looking me over, trying to see if anything was broken. _

"_Tobias?" I squeaked. He looked up at me, concern in his eyes. _

"_I'm sorry he did this to you." He said genuinely. He rolled my sleeve up and took out a syringe. My first instinct was to pull away from it. He'd forced it on me earlier, and a few times thereafter. But he had also dared me to say it hadn't helped. And it had. It made the pain go away. I felt the needle slide into my arm and I winced. _

"_It'll be alright." Tobias said. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The drug started to work. I slipped into a blissful oblivion. _

* * *

Dean's eyes opened, his breath ragged, one hand clasped over his arm, tears on his face.

"Dean," A voice said. He sat up, looking around the dark room. Emily bent down next to him. "Shh," She placed her hand on his cheek. "Are you alright?"

"B-bad dream." He stammered.

"You were screaming," Emily said. "You sure you're okay?" He nodded. It was a lie, but he nodded.

"I'm alright." They looked at each other for a moment, silence growing between them. In the darkness, Emily saw him lean toward her, his eyes closing. And she found herself leaning too. Their lips touched before she knew it. Sparks flew threw her mind and into her stomach, becoming butterflies doing the Rumba. Her hands wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, well, Reid's hair. Neither she nor Dean heard the door open behind them. They didn't even know someone else was present until Spencer bellowed:

"Oh my god!"

They broke apart instantly, spinning around. Sam had his hand over his mouth, stifling his laughter. Spencer, however, looked angry, disgusted and mortified.

"Are you kidding me?!" He yelled. "How dare-, I'm gonna-, you-, do you see me violating your body?!" Dean hid his own smile as best as he could, trying to be serious.

"Hey, uh, she started it." He said. Emily put her hand on her hip and looked at him incredulously.

"I don't care who started it!" Spencer said, his voice rising a few octaves. Dean winced. "Not only did you just kiss one of my coworkers but you did it with _my_ mouth!" Emily grimaced. When you thought about it that way…

"Ew." Sam said.

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean and Spencer snapped.

"Why are you in here in the middle of the night anyway?" Dean asked. Spencer bit his lip and glanced at Sam and Emily.

"I, uh, needed to talk to you." He said. Dean nodded.

"Um, we'll, uh, go." Sam said, taking the hint. He grabbed Emily's arm and pulled her out of the room.

"What's up, Doc?" Dean said, trying not to laugh at his own joke. Spencer rolled his eyes.

"I just had a dream that really freaked me out." He said sternly. Dean's smile faded.

"What was it this time?" He asked, a little afraid of the answer. Spencer leaned against the spare desk, chewing his lip.

"Sam died," He said quietly. Dean looked at the floor. He knew what was coming. "And what I want to know is…" He swallowed, looking up at Dean. "How is he alive?"

"We found a resurrection spell," Dean rattled off quickly, even though he knew no such spell existed or worked. "Just used a little mojo and bam, he was fine."

"Why do I think you're lying to me?" Spencer asked. Dean shrugged.

"Maybe you're paranoid." He suggested. Spencer frowned.

"Dean, tell me the truth. I mean, it's not like we have a lot of secrets between each other, right?" He asked. Dean remembered his own dream and shook his head.

"You'll freak out if I tell you." He said honestly. Spencer sighed.

"I doubt it. In the past three days I've been switched into another body, found out ghosts were real and watched myself kiss Prentice. I doubt anything you can dish out will freak me out." Spencer said pointedly. Dean sighed.

"Fine, kid, if you really wanna know…" Dean explained how he went to the crossroads demon, seeing no other way around it. He tried to covey to Spencer how he could _not_ live without Sam. He needed him too much. He tried to make Spencer understand that he didn't want to go to Hell, but if it meant that Sam was alive and okay, then he'd take whatever the universe could punish him with.

"So," Spencer said, breaking a long moment of silence. "So, you're…you're going to Hell?" He asked. Dean nodded.

"He's my brother. What was I supposed to do?" Dean said softly. Spencer shook his head.

"I don't know. But I do know I probably would have done the same thing." He said.

"I really hope we figure this curse thing out," Dean said. "'Cause if we don't…I don't know if I'm gonna go to Hell in your body or if…" He trailed off. Spencer's eyes grew, his face going pale.

"Do, do you mean I might..? But I didn't…Oh, God!" He ran his hand through his hair, heart thudding in his chest.

"Hey," Dean stood and walked over to him. "This is a big if, Spencer. There's like a five percent chance they take you and not me. It's my soul they want. But I don't know how easily Hellhounds get confused, ya know?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed. "I don't know! I don't know how any of this works! And you expect me to take your word for it?!"

"You don't think that I feel just as bad if you have to go instead of me?!" Dean bellowed. Spencer backed down. "Do you think I'd rather you go in my place for something you didn't do?! Yeah, it'd keep me outta the Hellfire, but it'd put you in it! You haven't done anything bad in your whole friggin' life, but you do keep getting shit on time and time again. Hell, I don't think you've been laid before! If you seriously believe I would let you go to Hell in my place then you haven't been paying attention as much as I thought you had."

"I'm sorry." Spencer mumbled.

"I need to ask you something, too," Dean said, softening his tone. "What is the deal with Tobias?" Spencer flinched like Dean had hit him. He'd been taken off guard with that one.

"Um," He swallowed and took a deep breath. "A few years ago I got kidnapped. The man had a split personality disorder. One minute he would be himself, Tobias, who was nice and didn't want to hurt me. Then the next he would be his father who…to be blunt, beat the shit out of me. And Raphael, he was a manifestation of the both of them."

"Yeah, well I got a good look at Dad and Tobias." Dean mumbled. Spencer looked at him.

"What did you see?" He asked, voice shaking.

"Daddy dearest beat the snot out of you with a 2x4 and Tobias gave you some drugs as painkillers. I'm guessing Dilaudid." Dean said, trying to get him to understand what he was hinting at.

"You found the bottle in my apartment, didn't you?" He asked in a small voice. Dean nodded.

"Yeah," He said. "Why did you keep it if that ass got you hooked on the stuff?"

"It reminds me of who I can become on that stuff. It reminds me when I have a craving or something that it can ruin my life. I keep it to keep me away from it."

"Anything else about the whole kidnapping thing you want to warn me about?" Dean asked.

"Russian Roulette, two people being killed because of me and a seizure." Spencer said quickly. Dean's brow rose.

"Okay, thanks." He said.

Dean prayed that Bobby would get here soon. He wasn't sure how many more of these nightmares he could take.

--More soon! Feedback please!!--


	15. Awkward Silence, or Not

--Alright, have fun guys!--

15

**Awkward Silence, or Not**

_Silence is golden when you can't think of a good answer_

_-Muhammad Ali _

Bobby walked into the Rehobeth police station, looking around for one or both of the boys he was looking for. But Sam saw him first.

"Bobby!" He called from across the room, waving him over. Bobby didn't ever remember him, nor any other hunter he had known to be sitting in the middle of a bunch of FEDs, let alone doing it out of his own free will and looking like he was having good conversation.

Dean was talking, and what he was talking about made Bobby stop short and stare in wonder.

"Einstein's theory wasn't that complicated," He said, shaking his head. "People only think it sounds difficult because of the word Einstein. All it is is two events, simultaneous to an observer, may not be simultaneous for another observer if, and only if, the observers are in relative motion. If they aren't then-"

"Kid," The bulky black man in the corner said, shaking his head and smiling. "Don't even bother with our feeble little minds. You might as well have spoken Chinese just now."

"Don't even get him started on String Theory." The blonde woman on Bobby's right said, smiling warmly. Dean blushed and looked at his hands.

"Do what I do," A nerdy looking ma-, make that boy, said, sounding bored and folding his arms, leaning back in his chair leisurely. "Tune him out and nod occasionally."

Dean scowled at the boy.

The nerdy kid looked up, recognition dawning on his face when his eyes met Bobby's.

"Hey, Bobby!" He grinned. "'Bout damn time you showed up! I want my body back." Bobby looked at the boy, absorbing what he had just said. He looked from Dean, well, "Dean", to the boy, back to Dean, and to the boy again.  
Slowly, a smile crept across his bearded face.

"Dean?" He said. The boy nodded.

"Yeah, hi." He said. Bobby laughed. And laughed, and laughed. He was doubled over, holding his sides and trying to talk at the same time. All he managed to get out was:

"You're hi-, and you're…? Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Dean scowled, folding his arms.

"Laugh it up, dude, laugh it up. You think I enjoy this?!" He barked. Bobby shook his head, still giggling, face red, tears in his eyes.

"What, being back in middle school?" He cracked up again.

"I'm twenty-seven, thank you." Spencer mumbled. Bobby laughed harder.

"In what, dog years?!"

Emily, Morgan and J.J. were laughing with him, mainly at Dean and Spencer's expressions.

"Hey, this sucks ass, ya know!" Dean exclaimed. "I haven't shaved once in the four days I've been in this body!"

"I don't see anything." Bobby stated, trying to contain himself and failing.

"Exactly!" Dean yelled.

"At least _you_ can fit through doorways with your bulky shoulders!" Spencer retorted. Bobby doubled over again.

"Will you knock it off?!" Dean yelled. Bobby took a few deep breaths and straightened up, still chuckling.

"If this wasn't really awesome Karma I would." He said, grinning. He looked down at Spencer.

"This is no offense to you, by the way, kid," He said. "I'm sure you pull off that body better than he does."

"Not really." Prentice, J.J. and Morgan said, now joined by Garcia. Spencer glowered at their grins.

"Look, can you help us or not?" Dean asked.

"I can try," Bobby shrugged. "You boys are cursed, big time. And curses ain't no picnic to break, if you can break 'em. If you try, you have to be very careful. You make a wrong move in one of those rituals and you could stay like this forever. Or, it could kill you, that's happened before too."

"Kill…?" Spencer said quietly. Bobby nodded knowingly.

"I'll make some calls and do a little digging. I think I know a ritual that'll help. But ya never know, curses are funny things. Takes a lot of dark magic and energy to make one."

"So there's a big chance we could stay like this forever?" Spencer asked.

"You want the truth, kid?" He asked. Spencer nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

Spencer sighed, letting his face fall in his hands.

"I'm doomed."

"I'm never getting laid again." Dean groaned. Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. Rossi chuckled.

"There are worse things." He said.

"Not to him." Bobby, Sam and Spencer said. Dean smirked.

"Hey, just because I have the privilege to have it be important doesn't mean you get to hate." Sam rolled his eyes again with Spencer's company.

"Well, uh, I'll go see what I can find and meet up with you guys later," Bobby said, heading for the door. On his way out he mumbled to where Dean just barely heard him. "Damn kids gettin' into all kinds o' crap. Make an old man run around all over the damn place…" The rest was incoherent.

"I don't think he liked it here." Prentice said.

"Maybe you guys creep him out." Garcia suggested. Morgan turned to her, brow cocked.

"And what makes you think it wasn't you that did it?" He asked. She grinned.

"Because everyone loves me." She said sweetly.

"That we do, Penny," Dean said, smirking at her. "That we do."

* * *

"We need to get a profile out to the public," Hotch said. "I think we have enough right now to make one." The rest of the profilers nodded in agreement.

"What are we gonna tell them about the other bodies?" J.J. asked.

"It's a different unsub and a different problem," Rossi said. "We can make them understand that this one is their primary concern."

"With such a small town, is that gonna be possible?" Morgan asked.

"I grew up in a place like this. They'll want to know why they shouldn't worry about the other one." J.J. stated.

"We'll stress the lookout on the actual serial killer, not the, I can't believe I'm saying this, ghost." Hotch said.

"Will it work, though?" Prentice asked.

"If we word it right, we will." Spencer said.

"Alright," Hotch said, standing. Sam and Dean glanced at each other, not fully aware of what just happened. "Let's go." They headed toward the conference room.

Dean watched Spencer go to round the corner, and he saw someone walking with files staked so high you couldn't see their face, not that the person was tall to begin with. He winced, opening his mouth to say something but it was too late.

Spencer and the person collided head on, sending files and papers everywhere.

A girl was behind those files. A small, young girl. Her mousy brown hair hung loosely in her face and she angrily brushed it away. Her glasses that were too big for her face slid down her nose and she pushed those up as well. She glanced up at Spencer awkwardly and began retrieving the papers.

"Oh, um," Spencer stammered, bending down to help her. "I'm sorry I didn't see…"

"No," The girl said in a soft voice, her doe green eyes peeking over the lenses. "It's, uh, it's my fault." She pushed her short hair behind her ear again and straightened her white blouse, which was partially covered with a sweater vest. Her wool gray skirt came to her knees and was left to reveal cute short legs tucked into black loafers and panty hose.

Dean's diagnosis for her: insanely dorky, but very adorable.

"I'm really, uh, really sorry." Spencer mumbled, handing her a small stack of files and still grabbing more. To add awkward to awkward both of them reached for the same paper at the same time, causing their hands to overlap for about a second. They both blushed deeply and jerked their hands away.

"It's okay," She muttered, biting her lower lip in nervousness. "You didn't, um, do it on purpose." He handed her the last paper. They both went to stand, knocking their heads together, of course.

"Ow!" The both said, then smiled shyly at each other.

"Sorry." Once again, in unison.

"Thanks." The girl said, bustling off in a huge hurry, blushing. Spencer gazed after her, almost dumb struck.

Dean giggled.

"Love at first geek, huh?" He called. Spencer turned red and hurried into the conference room with everyone else, ignoring a beaming Morgan. Dean waited a moment before looking at Garcia.

"Hey, Penny," He asked. "You know who that girl is?" She nodded.

"Yeah, that's Beverly Austen. Shy, smart, cute as a button and the nicest girl in the world. Why, you interested?" She put her hand on her hip. Dean shook his head, breaking into a grin.

"Nope, but Spencer is. And I'm gonna make sure he doesn't leave here without talking to her again."

"You're that mean?" Garcia asked.

"No, Penny," Dean shook his head, grin broadening. "I'm that _good._"

--Aww...Well, i think so. Tell me what you think!--


	16. The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste

16

**The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste**

_The human brain is a most unusual instrument of elegant and as yet unknown capacity_

_-Stuart Seaton _

The unsub was not a complicated one. His desires were primitive, objectives not much more advanced. The problem was, in such a small town, while everyone remained alert they could not see one of their neighbors being the monster that they see on the news.

"How are we going to catch an unsub that's invisible?" Rossi asked.

"We have to make him stand out," Hotch explained. "Our best bet right now is getting the _locals_ to weed him out, not us."

The profile they had given the police hours earlier had already aired on the six o'clock news, not only in Rehobeth, but in the surrounding cities as well.

They had deduced that he was a white male in his late thirties to early forties. He has some past grievance with Hispanic women, possibly an ex-girlfriend or a distant relative. He kills these women because he feels he cannot hurt the true object of his hate because of witnesses or perhaps a new boyfriend that he fears. His crimes are of passion, which is why they are so unorganized and messy. He will grow more and more paranoid that he will be caught as the investigation drags on, constantly looking over his shoulder, edgy. He will either break down or turn himself in, or possibly go on a spree, in which case it will end in suicide.

Though there are no sexual aspects to his thinking, he is playing out a fantasy. The first of his kills gave him the most satisfaction and he is trying to recreate that feeling. He will never succeed, no matter how hard he tries. He could, in his desperation, go after the object of his hate and kill her for real in hopes to reach that high once more.

The BAU's mission right now was to stop him before he reached that point. But they had received no help from the Tip Lines. No one had come forward with any idea of a suspect. No rumors were being passed around at the diner, nothing.

"Maybe we're wrong about something." Spencer suggested.

"All the evidence shows we're right." Morgan said. Spencer stood, running a hand through short, spiky hair that he was still unused to, looking at the board holding pictures, locations and maps.

His eyes darted back and forth, trying to push the right buttons in this foreign brain that struggled to work as fast as his IQ wanted to go. The others watched silently, waiting for him to make a connection somewhere.

"What's he doing?" Dean whispered to Prentice. Emily leaned over to him.

"He's doing this amazing thing called thinking," She said softly, grinning. "You should try it sometime." Dean rolled his eyes. Sam stifled a giggle.

"He's trying to figure out where the flaw is in the profile, if there is one." J.J. explained in a low voice.

"And he can do that because..?" Dean asked.

"He's a genius." Prentice shrugged. Dean nodded and sat back, waiting with the rest of them.

Spencer's thoughts whipped through his mind, seeing connections in front of him like no one else could. Suddenly his eyes lit up. The connection was made; the circuit was complete.

"I know what it is," He said quietly. "The age. The age is wrong, it's completely off."

"Keep goin', kid." Morgan urged.

"It makes so much sense. The age of the girls, the locations, how they were killed, it all makes sense!" His eyes were bright, his voice rising in volume and pitch. Dean broke into an amused smile and shook his head.

_Only someone as geeky as Dr. Spencer Reid could get excited about serial killers._ He thought.

"What are we looking for, Reid?" Hotch asked.

"We're looking for a kid, probably around sixteen." Spencer said, as if it were so obvious a child could have figured it out.

"Reid, the victims are too young for the unsub to be a kid," Rossi said pointedly. "Kids go after older women, they see them as weak and easier to get to." Spencer shook his head.

"Not if he's playing out a fantasy. He has to have a specific age, look and type for it to work."

The light bulb went off for all of them, then. Dean watched it spark in all of their eyes.

"That's why the locals haven't noticed anything," Spencer continued urgently. "They've been watching the middle aged men when they should have been watching their kids!" Hotch stood and walked to the door.

"Sheriff!" He called, beckoning Finch over.

"Somethin' wrong?" He asked. They still had to listend hard to understand him through his thick Southern accent.

"Do you know of any boys around here that have any offenses against them? Particularly stalking?" Hotch asked. The sheriff thought for a moment, scratching his head.

"He would be very nervous and edgy around everyone, always jittery. Before now he had been very quiet, very shy and very angry for no particular reason." Rossi explained. Recognition dawned in his eyes.

"Yeah, I know a boy like that." He said quietly.

"Who?" Prentice asked, standing. Finch looked at her.

"My son, Michael," He said. "Isabella Lopez reported him last year for following her nearly everywhere she went. Got a restranin' order on 'im and everything. Boy was grounded for three months. His Mama couldn't believe it. Neither could I, fer that matter."

"Did he and Isabella used to date?" Morgan asked.

"Fer 'bout a month. But she thought he was too clingy. Said he was obsessed w'ther."

"Sheriff, where is your son now?" Hotch asked.

"Uh, th' football game. 'S Homecoming, the place'll be packed."

"Is there a good chance Isabella will be there?" Hotch said.

"Should be. Her boyfriend's the quarterback."

"Do you know when they got together?"

"Uh, lesee, talked to his Mama 'bout three weeks ago an' she said he and her just started datin'."

"That's the stressor." Morgan said, standing with everyone else.

"Sheriff we need to get you and your men to the stadium as soon as possible to find your son."

"Wh-what's he gonna do?" Finch asked.

"He's going to kill Isabella." Hotch stated.

"You really think my son is this monstah?" He asked. Hotch nodded gravely. Finch bowed his head. "Alright, I'll get everybody on it."

"We know this is hard to comprehend," Hotch said. "But there was nothing you could do to stop this." Finch nodded and headed out the door.

"Alright, let's go." Hotch said.

Guns and car keys were grabbed and put into place, files were closed and chairs were pushed out as the agents walked out of the station. Sam and Dean looked at each other, sighing.

"Well this is a first," Dean griped. "I hate missin' out on the action." He folded his arms, pouting.

"Maybe we should start worrying about our own hunt." Sam said. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, but let's wait 'til they stop shootin' up the football game. People runnin' around everywhere in a panic isn't gonna help us much." Dean said. Sam nodded in agreement.

"You ready to get out of that body yet?" Sam asked.

"Hell yeah!" He said. "I'm sick of watching myself talk like a dork and walk around with my face. And I'm _sick_ of these stupid nightmares." Sam looked at him, brow cocked.

"What nightmares?" He asked.

"Never mind." Dean mumbled.

"Seriously, what nightmares?" Sam pried. God, Dean hated it when he got like this. That bitchy "I'm Not Dropping This" look that made Dean want to punch him, hard.

"Sam, drop it." He hissed. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna go talk to Penny." Dean said, standing and heading out the door. Sam looked after him.

He wished that once, just once Dean would open up about something. The last time he did was weeks after Dad died. And that had been brief. And Sam was never to speak of it again for as long as he lived. But just once Sam wished he would let him in. He looked out the door at his brother, who was making Garcia blush fire engine red and giggle behind her hand. Dean was smirking, and even though it was on a different face Sam could have recognized it anywhere.

It made Sam weary trying to get Dean to talk to him. Maybe the it was time to try something different. Instead of going to Dean and begging for information, maybe he should let Dean come to him.

He thought about how stubborn Dean was, his unshakeable will and thick walls around his heart. Yeah, it was definitely best to have Dean come to him.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean barked, snapping him out of his daze. "Take a friggin' picture, it lasts longer!"

--Feedback please!--


	17. Curses

17

**Curses**

_This is the curse of an evil deed, that it incites and must bring forth more evil_

_-Johann Friedrich Von Schiller_

The FBI agents came back about an hour later with a young kid in handcuffs.

Sam and Dean watched as they led the boy into the holding cell (yes there was only one). Emily sat down at the desk that Dean was sitting on with a huff.

"I hate teenagers," She said. "If I hear someone use like more than four times in the same sentence one more time I'll go postal." Dean smiled and opened his mouth. "Don't you dare." She growled. Dean giggled.

"So, did it go well?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"Kid confessed before we got him to the car." Morgan said, plopping down at a near-by desk.

"Convenient." Dean said with a smirk.

"He's a child," Spencer stated. "We scared him, he confessed. If you're intimidating enough a child will tell you whatever you want to know. Like when they're in trouble." Dean and Morgan exchanged a glance, brows cocked.

"And you're intimidating?" Dean asked. Surprisingly, Spencer smirked back. Dean blanched at seeing his own face give himself his own infamous look.

"With this body and the right facial expression I can be _very_ intimidating. But I think you already knew that." He said, looking at him darkly from under his lashes. His demeanor changed back to his normal, awkward self.

Emily's jaw had fallen open.

"Reid, I didn't even know you could _do_ that." She said, shocked. Spencer shrugged.

"It's not hard to act like him." He said simply.

Dean folded his arms, obviously offended.

"Oh really?" He said. "You can't be me. You don't have the charisma."

"You don't think I can?" Spencer asked. Dean shook his head, folding his arms in a challenge, brushing his too long hair out of his face.

Spencer looked up to see Garcia heading toward them. "You want to see why I'm good at my job?" Garcia reached them before Dean could answer.

Spencer donned the smirk he had moments before and looked up at her flirtatiously, or, at least what he hoped was flirtatious. He wasn't exactly good at this, or experienced.

But Penelope couldn't tell the difference. She tried not to gasp when she met his gaze. Green eyes peering through dark lashes peeked up at, no, _through_ her. Full lips curved into a gentle smile. She blushed, unable to tear her eyes away.

"Hey, Garcia?" He said, his voice deep and rumbling. She felt goosebumps work their way slowly up their arms.

"Yeah?" She said, voice strangled. His smile grew a fraction. She swallowed hard.

"Can you hand me that pen behind you?"

"Mm hm." She squeaked, reaching behind her blindly. She felt her hand clasp around the hard plastic and held it out to him, hand anything but steady. He winked at her as he took it. She made a noise somewhere between a giggle and a yelp.

He looked at Dean, smile fading.

"Told you so." He said. He looked up nervously at Garcia, his behavior changing back to normal. He ran his hand through his hair, half smiling like he usually did, folding his hands in his lap and shifting in his seat. The rest of his team sees this as Spencer Reid: Embarrassed. "I am so sorry, Garcia," He said apologetically. "It was a social experiment. I didn't mean…" He winced, expecting her to get angry. But Penelope Garcia didn't get angry.

"I'm proud of you, Reid," She said gleefully, ruffling his hair. "I didn't know you could be sexy."

Spencer shook his head, looking slightly mortified and blushing a deep red.

"It, I, it was, I didn't, um-" He stammered. Penelope giggled.

"I think I like you better awkward and adorable, Doctor." She said, grinning. Spencer blushed deeper. Prentice nodded.

"I think I agree with her." She said.

Dean shrugged.

"I still think I do it better." He grumbled. Emily glanced sideways at him, smile shy.

"I agree." She said quietly. Dean's phone started ringing in his pocket. He flipped it open, his heart beating a little faster.

"Bobby!" He said, glancing at his brother. Sam sat up straighter, as did Spencer. "Did you find out anything?"

"Yeah, I got a ritual that might work." Bobby said gruffly. "But we have to do it at midnight tonight for it to work."

"What is it with these people and midnight?" Dean asked rhetorically. "We don't have to be in a cemetery or anything, do we?"

"Nah," Bobby said. "I'll be there later. I'd explain what's goin' on to those FED friends of yours so they don't freak out."

"Alright," Dean said. There was a beat of silence. He lowered his voice. "Do you think this'll work?" Bobby sighed.

"Curses are strange things, Dean," He said. "I honestly have no idea how tonight's gonna go. This could work, or something bad could happen, or nothing could happen, I have no idea."

"Great," Dean mumbled. "I'll see ya later, Bobby."

"Don't do anything stupid 'til I get there, ya idgit." The other end of the line went dead. Dean shook his head.

"Does no one say goodbye anymore?"

* * *

"So, we're counteracting the magic?" Dean asked, glancing at the mirror that had gotten him into this mess with disdain. Spencer was on the other side of the room, not wanting to go near the horrid instrument.

"Yeah," Bobby said, setting some herbs Dean didn't know the name of around the mirror, a match in his hand. "And this is some powerful stuff. You gotta be real careful with it or…" He glanced back at the two men. "Uh, never mind."

Spencer swallowed, shifting his hands in his pockets. He had no idea how any of this stuff worked, and to his horror and worry Bobby, Sam and Dean didn't really know either. Curses were either something you avoided thoroughly or just rode out. But this, this didn't have an end game. And Spencer hoped that what Bobby had found would work. If it didn't…

If it didn't he would have to leave the BAU. He was a wanted man, after all. He could never see his mother again. Never. Even if he did she wouldn't understand. There would be no possible way to tell her that he was her son, but looked like a completely different person.

"Alright, boys," Bobby said, lighting the match. "Hang on." Spencer and Dean instinctively braced themselves. The match hit the dried plants.

The two men collapsed.

--Oh no! Cliffie!!!--


	18. Nightmare on Elm Street

18

**Nightmare on Elm Street**

_Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares_

_-Gandhi_

Spencer didn't hear the older man yelling for him and Dean to wake up. He didn't hear Sam come in and talk to his brother, asking how they had ended up like this. He didn't feel J.J. squeeze his hand or hear her trying to wake him with her calm, soothing voice.

He was watching horrors play out before his very eyes, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His eyes darted back and forth under closed lids, seeing the spectacle and desperately wanting to turn away. But he couldn't.

* * *

_Fingers wrapped around my heart, squeezing, ripping, tearing. I felt it burst. I watched the blood trickle down my chest. I looked up into those eyes, those yellow eyes with my father's face. The pain was blinding, agonizing. I couldn't see straight, my eyes burning. I couldn't think, I couldn't move. All I saw was Dad's face._

"_D-Dad!" I choked, begging him to help me. "Don't you let it kill me!" I hear Sam bellow somewhere far away. The world's slipping, edges becoming dark. I watch the blood running in torrents flow down my chest, so easily, taking my life away with it. Faintly I can hear someone screaming. Me. _

_My strength is fading fast. So fast. I feel metallic liquid move its way up my throat, dripping slowly past my lips. I look up, hardly able to lift my head. _

"_Dad, please." The pain, so white hot and unbearable. But escape is coming. The darkness is growing, filling up the whole world. I'm dying. I let the welcoming, comforting darkness take me._

It changed.

_Doctors everywhere, pedals in hand, pressing them to his chest over and over and over again. But nothing happened. I knew it wouldn't. Dad was dead. My invincible father that couldn't be hurt by anything was gone. He left me here. Alone. Lost. Scared. Empty. No, no please, no!_

_DAD, PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!_

And again.

_I sat next to my little brother's corpse, talking to him as if he could hear me. I have to get him back. That son of a bitch could take my mother, take my father, but he would _not_ take my baby brother too. I pushed Sam's hair back, shuddering when I feel how cold he is._

"_I'm gonna save you, little brother. I'm gonna get you back. You can't leave me too." _

And again.

_Fire. Agony that couldn't be fathomed no matter what I dreamed. Chains and knives, demons swarming everywhere. Ones that I had put here, now turning to punish me. I feel them dig their horrid claws into me, ripping me apart, blades slicing through skin as if it were butter. Screams that could not be heard. My brother's name tearing from my throat in a desperate attempt at safety. _

_It isn't until I wake curled in a ball, sweating and (to my horror) crying, that I realize I have time. But not much. I can hear it tick away slowly, like an hour glass that you can't turn back over. But when I look over at the sleeping figure across the room, I know what I did was right. I shut my eyes again and let the nightmares take me, knowing somewhere that it was worth it._

* * *

Dean knew pain well. He'd become acquainted with it, and knew how to fight it. Spencer Reid had as well, but, as smart as he was, he didn't know how to ward it off, how to keep his heart safe and his mind clear. He simply tried to forget about it. But considering he never forgot a single thing, it was hard. Dean felt this pain as he lived this, with no escape that he could see.

* * *

_I walked back into my apartment; clenching the note he had left in my hand, wishing that he could be here to tell me this. Why couldn't he just tell me he was leaving? Why did he…_

_No. That's part of life. If you trust someone enough, if you love someone…they leave you. _

_He left me too. The one person I was sure would never abandon me like anyone else I had ever cared about left me. The only courtesy I got was a note. I sat down on the couch, tossing the paper onto the small table in front of me like it burned. My face fell in my hands. _

_There's something wrong with me. There has to be. There has to be a reason I'm forbidden to get close to anyone without it blowing up in my face. _

_Morgan's next, I just know it. Life has taken my mother, my father, my mentor, why not my best friend too?_

_What's wrong with me? Why does everyone leave me? Have I done something wrong? Someone please tell me!_

_These silent rooms don't help how lonely I feel, how hollow I feel. _

_Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Let them come. I feel pathetic enough as it is. Let the self loathing commence. _

_He left me. Just like all the others. Maybe if I stop caring it won't happen with Morgan. _

The scene swirled. The atmosphere was the same, but time was different, Dean knew that.

_I threw the bottles away, crushed them with my bare hands. Not the smartest thing to do. _

_Neither was going cold turkey._

_My body won't stop shaking, trembling so violently it almost hurts. It's so cold, no matter how tight I clamp my arms around myself. Goosebumps come in waves, rattling me. My stomach flips every time I move. A cold sweat covers my face in a thin sheen. I'd beg for help, if this wasn't what I deserve. My whole body aches, muscles screaming when I try and stand. I look around, blinking the water out of my eyes. My fever's high, body weak. _

"_Help." I gulped helplessly. There is no one here, no one that will care. Just books and silent walls. My head rested against the side of my bed. I almost made it onto it, so close…_

_Another shock wave of pain and chills rush through me. I whimper, hugging myself again. _

_The pain seeps into my bones, rattling my core, freezing it and burning it at the same time. _

_I shut my eyes, leaning my head back, the icy air around me pressing. My face feels so hot…_

_A hand touched my forehead. I jumped, looking around anxiously. _

"_Hey, hey, easy, kid," I knew that voice. My vision wouldn't clear, but I knew who it was. "C'mere." Strong hands help lift me up, resting me on the bed, which was colder than the patch of floor I had been residing on. But it was considerably softer. I felt blankets fall over me, warming me slowly. I shook my head, sending the room spinning. _

"_M-Morgan, don't." I whimpered._

"_Why?" He asked, frowning. _

"_I d-don't deserve i-it." I said, trembling. _

"_I don't care what you think you deserve and what you don't. I'm not leavin' you like this, okay?" His hand rested on my forehead again. He winced. "You're burnin' up, kid." My body shook with a violent spasm that I couldn't control no matter how hard I tried. My muscles shrieked at me in agony. A dry sob tore from my throat. _

"_Shh, easy," Morgan said. "You're gonna be alright, okay?" My subconscious told me no, it wouldn't. This agony would never end and I deserved every minute of it. Logically it didn't make sense. Withdrawal symptoms faded after awhile. But until then I was trapped in this prison that was my body, freezing and burning alive. _

* * *

They were imprisoned in their minds, watching the horrors of the other play out before them and unable to stop them, unable to wake up.

Bobby had failed to understand how cursed objects work. Most of the time they lie dormant, quiet and content. They don't, however, enjoy being toyed with. They also do not favor foolish hunters trying to reverse their magic for their own gain. Sometimes they get so agitated they kill whoever is cursed.

But this particular object wasn't going to kill them. No, The Mirror wanted to have some fun with them. She'd let them wake up, but not before she had her fun. The Mirror wasn't angry, more so amused that they had tried to even disable her magic. She was simply chastising them for trying to stop her handy work.

She'd let them wake up, after the horrors of each other took them over.

--Sheesh, issues! lol. Feedback plz!--


	19. Have Mercy

19

**Have Mercy**

_We shall show mercy, but we shall not ask for it_

_-Sir Winston Churchill _

**Eighteen Hours Later…**

Dean started awake, gripping whatever fabric was underneath him, gasping, shuddering and trying to figure out where he was.

"No, n-no more," He begged hoarsely. "Pl-please!" His eyes tried to focus under the harsh sunlight filtering into the room. Someone sat in front of him, grasping his hand and touching his cheek.

"Dean?" He knew that voice.

_Emily,_ He thought distantly.

"Dean, look at me." He could barely see her, but she was gaining focus as the seconds ticked by.

"Don't make me," He said wearily. "Please, Emily, don't make me-"

"Shh," She soothed. "It's okay, it's alright, it's over, okay?" He shuddered involuntarily again. He felt arms wrap around him, hugging him to a soft, warm body. He hugged her back, to worn to fight. He may have been sleeping for several hours, but God he was tired.

Dean looked around. He was in an office of some sort, lying on a couch.

Across the room, also lying on a couch, Spencer sat up, instantly wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in them. His body shook with sobs, unbridled, but soft.

"Oh, thank god!" Garcia exclaimed. Spencer jumped and held his knees tighter. His visions of monsters, ghosts, ghouls, things that went bump in the night stuck with him. He could still feel that darkness everywhere. He wondered how Dean and Sam could possibly endure that for so long. Such horrors…

Garcia looked at him, her eyes growing moist when she realized what she had done. She sat next to him, gently trying to coax his face up.

"Hey, honey, what's wrong?" She asked, worried. He couldn't answer. His eyes met hers, tearful and bloodshot. "Sweetheart." She hugged him, giving Emily a reproachful look across the room.

Sam walked in, sighing in relief when he saw that his brother was awake. But that faded quickly when he saw the state he and Spencer were in.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Dean jumped at his voice, cursing silently.

"Dean," Emily said so quietly only he could hear her. "You haven't told Sam about the..?" Dean shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

She gently pulled away from him and stood, taking Sam aside and talking in whispers.

Spencer trembled, shaking his head lightly and hanging on tight to Garcia, who was thoroughly confused. She didn't ask questions, though. It really wasn't her business, and she honestly didn't want to know. She preferred to be naïve when it came to the terrible things that wandered into her day to day life.

Sam wanted to hit himself for not guessing this sooner. He'd seen what happened to Spencer the other night, waking from his own nightmare and bolting out of the room to see if Dean was alright. Seeing him and Emily making out trumped any thought of any nightmares of any kind. He'd come to the conclusion that for the past eighteen hours Dean and Spencer had been reliving the worst moments in each other's lives, with nothing to stop it, nothing to save them. And now they were thoroughly freaked out and immensely tired. He could see it.

Dean was pale, haggard, his eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath. Even with someone else's face, there was no doubt that this was his brother.

"Are you guys okay?" He asked, knowing what Dean's answer would be no matter what.

"Yeah," He grunted, taking a deep breath. "Just need a minute." Spencer nodded in agreement. Garcia pulled away from him, making sure he gave her a reassuring nod before she stood and filed out of the room behind Prentice.

Dean nodded to his little brother, signaling that he truly was alright. Sam left reluctantly, glancing back over his shoulder before shutting the door.

Spencer wiped his eyes, sniffing. Dean took another deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You alright?" He asked. Spencer nodded.

"I'll be fine." He said softly. Dean shook his head.

"Man, your life sucks." He said.

"Yours too." Spencer croaked. Dean swallowed again.

"I don't think the reversal worked," He said. "Maybe we can try something else."

"If there is another way." Spencer stated quietly.

"Don't think like that, dude," Dean said slightly harsher than he intended. Spencer jumped involuntarily. Dean winced. "Sorry. We're gonna find a way to fix this, okay? You're gonna get your body back and I'm gonna get mine. And then we won't have these god awful nightmares anymore."

"I hope you're right." Spencer whispered. Dean frowned, looking over at the man that had his face.

"You sure you're alright?" He asked. Spencer's lip trembled, tears returning. He _hated_ it when people asked him that. This happened when people asked him that. He blinked rapidly, trying to compose himself again.

"Hey," Dean stood, walking over to him and sitting across from him. "It's gonna be alright, okay?" Spencer wanted to scream at him to stop talking; he was only making it worse. "I know what you saw was bad but-"

"Stop it." Spencer begged softly. "Please, you aren't helping." Dean understood. He sat silently for a moment, waiting until Spencer was okay.

"We need to talk to Bobby," He said finally. "Maybe he knows another way." Dean nodded.

"Yeah, and me and Sam still have that hunt to deal with." He said. Spencer stood, heading for the door, composure set. He walked out into the hallway and turned, and ran smack into someone.

Beverly fell flat on her butt, glasses hanging off one ear. When she saw who she had ran into she quickly slipped them back on, blushing, embarrassed.

Spencer blushed as well, standing quickly and offering his hand out to help her up. She took it, blushing deeper.

"I'm sorry," Spencer said. "I didn't see-"

"No, I um," She was having a serious sense of déjà vu. "It's alright." She resolved, righting her glasses again.

He swallowed hard, chewing his lower lip.

"Um, see you around?" Spencer said. She nodded, blushing again before she walked away, ducking her head.

"You are seriously not good at that." Dean said behind him. Spencer ran his hand through his hair.

"Shut up."

* * *

Bobby was going to look as hard as he could for another way to break the curse. The mirror was still in his possession, sitting quietly in a shoebox he found.

Dean didn't think that was the best way to store a seriously dangerous object that literally held his life in its hands. Well, okay, a mirror doesn't literally have hands but…

Now Sam and Dean were parked in front of the Rehobeth ranch in one of the SUVs the BAU was using.

"So was there any EMF the last time you were here?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"Off the charts. This place has so much energy it almost broke it." He said. Dean sighed.

"Great," He said, glancing back up at the huge house. "Alright, I'll see if I can get rid of the Mrs."

"I'll go around back." Sam said, cocking the sawn off in his hand. Dean nodded and started walking toward the house.

The second he entered the mansion he could tell that there was something here that shouldn't be. He could feel the death in the house, feel the evil that was committed here.

"Hello?" He called. "Is the lady of the house in?!" Pushing ghost's buttons was a definite way to get them to come out. Which limited the amount of work that had to be done to find which room she had decided to inhabit.

He walked up the grand staircase, which was covered in dust and rotting wood.

"C'mon sweetheart, where are you?!" The house remained silent. The stairs ended at a hallway with two large doors at the end. Leading, he assumed, to the master bedroom, where it was said Elizabeth was killed.

It took him three tries to get the door to open, and when it finally did, a gust of stale, old air met him, sending him into a light coughing fit. He aimed his gun into the room, pointing in all directions. He stepped inside. The room was covered in a thick layer of dust, clouds of it falling in the sunlight filtering through the grimy, broken windows.

"An' who ahr you?" A voice said behind him. He spun around, grip tightening on the gun. A woman stood in the doorway, leaning lazily against it, blocking his way out.

"You must be Elizabeth." Dean said. She smiled, looking him over, lust in her eyes. Dean grimaced.

"That ah am, mistah. An' who, may ah ask, ahr you?" She grinned. Dean smirked.

"The one that's gonna gank your ass." He went to shoot her, but she moved out of the way, ending up closer to him than he would have like.

She looked at him as if she were trying to figure something out.

"You've been cursed bah mah mirrah, haven't ya?" Dean blanched, not expecting her to know something like that.

"Yes." Dean said. She laughed deep in her throat.

"Ah thought so."

"Do you know how to reverse it?" Dean asked almost desperately. Her smile turned cruel.

"Ah do. But ah ain't gonna tell you. Ah cursed that mirrah for a reason. If you were dumb enough ta get cursed bah it that's your own doin'. An' not mah problem." Dean sneered, anger building inside him.

"Have it your way then." The shotgun blasted in his hand and she disappeared. Before Dean could do anything else, he heard his brother scream outside.

--Oh no! Another cliffie! Ah!--


	20. Happy Hunting

20

**Happy Hunting**

_Problem solving is hunting. It is savage pleasure and we are born to it_

_-Thomas Harris_

Dean instantly bolted out of the room, descending the stairs like they weren't even there. By the time his feet touched the ground for more than a second he was outside, looking around and listening for his brother's voice.

"SAM?!" He bellowed. He waited anxiously for a response, heart jumping every time he heard the slightest sound. Faintly, he heard a voice.

"Dean!"

That was all he needed. He took off, sprinting in the direction Sam's strangled voice had come from. He rounded the corner of the house and was met with a sight that made his frustration grow to a boiling point.

Rows and rows of small huts that used to house slaves stood before him, each of them having the possibility of holding his brother.

"SAMMY?!" It sounded so strange yelling his name with another voice.

"Dean!" He darted through the houses, looking left and right for a sign of life.

"TALK TO ME, SAMMY!"

"Dean!" His head snapped to the right before he took off again.

"SAM!"

He skidded to a halt.

Skeletons, dozens of them, were lying before him. He turned back to the house, which was a small speck from his viewpoint. No one must have come out here and seen the bodies. Bodies of souls that had died violently and had never been put to rest. Angry spirit city. He shook his head, stepping over them and continuing to run.

"SAMMY!"

"Dean!" His voice was louder, much louder. He rounded another corner and stopped again.

Sam was surrounded, his back against a wooden post in the middle of this clearing. The ghosts of the dead slaves were closing in on him, their eyes wild with hate and anger, lips pulled back in snarls.

The ghosts did not see the young man. They saw their master, the master that had come and slaughtered every single one of them for a crime committed by only one. They wanted their vengeance for what he had done to them, their wives, their children.

Sam's gun lie a few yards away, rock salt shells empty, useless. Dean's, however, was full, and there were more shells in his pockets.

"Hey, assholes!" He hollered. The spectral beings turned. Dean's face changed to them. Now he was their master, their object to hate. They started moving on him. Dean cocked the gun, smirking.

"Bring it."

He fired in all directions, watching as one by one they disappeared in a puff of smoke. Sam darted forward when there was an opening, grabbing his gun. Dean tossed shells at him; Sam snatched them out of the air, loaded it and began firing as well.

They were gone soon, nothing left but Sam and Dean's pants for breath.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and then back to Sam.

"Did you see all that?" He asked, sounding mildly impressed, mildly disgusted. Sam nodded, grimacing.

"I'll go get the lighter fluid." He said.

Minutes later there was a rather large fire going, skeletal remains soaked in lighter fluid and salt.

"That should do it." Dean said, clapping his hands together as if he were dusting them off.

"Yeah, now we have to deal with Joseph and Elizabeth." Sam said pointedly.

"Well, I know where Elizabeth is," Dean said. "Finding Joseph is gonna be the hard part." Sam sighed.

"We're gonna have to go in that swamp and try to find him, aren't we?" He grimaced. Dean nodded.

"We can start at that crime scene we were at the other day," He suggested. "I mean, considering we saw him there."

"We'd better hurry, too," Sam said, looking around. "It's getting dark."

"Great. Hunting for the Creature from Black Lagoon in the dark. Fun." Dean smirked. Sam rolled his eyes.

* * *

Dean dropped the match on Joseph's remains, shuddering when he saw bugs and spiders scuttle away form the flame. He wiped the back of his hand across his dirty face, smearing mud and sweat across his forehead.

"Well that was fun," He spat grumpily. He was wet from the boggy water, covered in slime and dirt. Sam was in no better shape. "Squirrelly bastard makin' us chase 'im. Then tries to ambush us. What a dick!" He mumbled.

"Let's get out of here." Sam said. They stumbled through the trees, grabbing onto branches to pull their shoes out of mud patches. They finally reached solid ground, even dirtier than they were.

Dean shook the water out of his hair, cursing. About a hundred yards back he had tripped and fallen into the shallow water, coming back up coughing.

"This is definitely a F my life moment." Dean grumbled. Sam nodded in agreement.

"I don't think I've ever wanted a shower more in my life." He whined.

"I don't know, you remember that Golem we took out in New Mexico a few years back?" Dean asked. "Now that was messy."

"Good point." Sam resigned.

"And we still have to get rid of the Slut of the South," Dean said. "I vote we get rid of her tonight just to get it over with." Sam sighed.

"Alright," He huffed. "But let's hurry up." Dean rummaged in his pocket, praying that his phone would still work with some water damage. He flipped it open, not only marveling that it was till working but also that he had service.

"The all powerful Empress Penelope Garcia recognizes you, speak, oh unworthy one." Dean grinned.

"Hi, Penny." He said. He heard her giggle.

"Hi, Dean. You need something, sugar?" She asked.

"I need your genius skills, sweetheart."

"Then you're in the right place." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I need you to tell me where Elizabeth Rehobeth is buried." He asked. Distantly, he heard the clicking of a keyboard in the receiver.

"She was cremated." She said. Dean cursed under his breath.

"Great." He growled.

"In fact the only thing they have left that's hers is that mirror." Garcia stated. Dean's eyes lit up at her words, understanding what had to be done. He broke into a grin.

"Penny, I swear to all things holy the next time I see you I'm gonna kiss you full on the mouth." He said. Garcia laughed.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, honey." She said. Dean smiled slyly.

"I don't. Thanks, Penny." He closed the phone before she could say anything else. He quickly flipped it back open again, dialing rapidly.

"What's going on?" Sam asked. Dean held up his hand as a gesture to hang on.

"Hello?"

"Bobby, okay I need you to bring the mirror to the Rehobeth ranch right now." Dean said.

"Actually, I was just gonna call ya. I think I found another way to break the curse."

"And let me guess, there's a time limit on it too?"

"Yeah."

"And when do we have to do it?" Dean asked.

"Mm, 'bout an hour." Dean sighed.

"Great. Okay, bring the mirror _and _Spencer so we can get this done and over with," He said. "And let's gank Mrs. Crazy _before_ we do the ritual. I want to die knowing that I at least got rid of her." Bobby chuckled.

"Alright, kid, just hang on. I'll meet ya there." Dean shut his phone and turned to his brother.

"I might get my body back." He said. Sam broke into a grin.

"That's great," He paused, noting his brother's expression. "Why aren't you more excited?"

"Because I could die in the process." He said. Sam blanched at how blunt his words were.

"Dean, you're not gonna-"

"You don't know what's gonna happen tonight, Sammy." He said wearily. Sam shook his head.

"It's gonna be fine. Bobby wouldn't have you guys do something if it was too dangerous." He said. Dean gave him his "as if" expression. Sam bowed his head.

"To tell ya the truth Sam, I'm scared," Sam's head shot up so fast it was a miracle he didn't break his neck. "If this ritual kills me it'll kill Spencer too. And this kid didn't even know this stuff existed until a week ago, and that ain't fair."

Sam relaxed. He should have known better…

"But hey, it's worth a shot, right?" He turned back to the SUV and climbed in.

"Let's go kill a whore, Sammy!" He called, grinning. Sam smiled back, but it was strained. Living day after day knowing your brother was going to die because of your stupid mistakes took a lot out of you. And it was worse when your brother acted like he didn't care.

--More soon!--


	21. Broken Levees

21

**Broken Levees **

_Perhaps all pleasure is only relief_

_-William S. Burroughs _

Bobby was already parked in the driveway when Sam and Dean pulled up. Spencer was leaning against the beat up Chevelle, looking nervous. Bobby grinned when Sam and Dean got out of the car.

"Go for a little swim, boys?" He asked. Dean scowled.

"You go runnin' after a ghost in a freakin' swamp in the freakin' dark and let's see how _you_ look." He growled.

"Keep your shirt on," Bobby chuckled. "And I wouldn't be stupid enough to try and chase a ghost." Dean glowered at him.

"Shut up," He spat. "Do you have the mirror?" Bobby nodded and gingerly reached inside the shoebox that was perched on the hood.

"_Do not_ break this," He said firmly. "We're takin' a risk by even touchin' it, let alone runnin' around with it." Sam took it from Bobby.

"We'll be careful." He said genuinely.

"You better. Something happens to that, something real bad happens to them." Bobby stated matter-of-factly. Spencer swallowed hard.

"Please don't break it." He said desperately. Dean smirked.

"Don't worry, Doc. It'll be fine," He assured, turning to the house. "Alright, Sammy, let's ice this bitch."

* * *

The crept silently down the hall, watching the doors at the end for any sign of movement. Dean gripped the knob; Sam simultaneously moved to the side, leaning against the wall.

"_One,_" Dean mouthed. Sam nodded. "_Two…_" They shoved the door open and jumped into the room, flashlight beams swirling and meeting nothing.

"C'mon, Lizzie," Dean called. "We have a present for ya!" Sam shifted his grip on the mirror, clutching it tightly in his hand.

The EMF meter in Dean's pocket buzzed louder and louder. He smiled.

"That's right, sweetheart, come and get it!" They waited, and they didn't have to wait long.

"What ahr you two doin' with mah mirrah!" An angry voice said behind them. They spun around quickly. Sam held the mirror tighter. Elizabeth was standing there, her eyes dark, teeth bared, fists clenched.

"You want it?" Dean asked. She growled, the sound deep in her throat.

Suddenly the windows behind them burst, glass flying everywhere. Dean winced, ducking his head away from it. Sam did as well, bringing the cursed object around and away from the dangerous matter. A sudden gust of wind blew through the room, sending objects flying, mostly papers.

Elizabeth's hair flew wildly around her head, making her look even more deranged.

"Give me mah mirrah!" She shrieked.

"Tell me how to break the curse!" Dean yelled over the roar of the wind. Elizabeth roared again. The wind picked up. Dean's still damp hair flew in his face.

"You don' deserve it!" She bellowed. Dean sneered at her, hate deep in his face.

"Then you asked for it!" He took a step back. "Sam, now!" Sam held the mirror in front of Elizabeth's face, bracing himself.

Elizabeth screamed, long and loud, rattling the brother's eardrums. Dean covered his ears. Sam instinctively took a step back. The wind was so strong it was Gail force. With one final shriek the woman went up in smoke, disappearing into the mirror itself.

It grew unbearably hot in Sam's hand and he dropped it as the wind died down. It landed on the floor with a thud but did not break.

Dean grimaced when black goo oozed out of it and onto the floor, sizzling like acid.

"Damn ectoplasm." He grunted, standing. Sam looked at the mirror, then at his brother.

"I guess that didn't break it." He said.

"Didn't figure it would," Dean replied. He pulled a dirty handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around the handle of the mirror, gingerly picking it up. "Alright, let's go see if Bobby's ritual works."

* * *

"Bobby, I don't think this is gonna work." Sam said, looking skeptically at the old hubcap he was using as a wok.

"Hey, if a Spongebob placemat works in a summoning ritual a hubcap can work as a wok." Bobby retorted. He rolled up the small piece of paper he had written the scroll on and handed it to Dean. Spencer was looking at his own doubtfully.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked. Bobby nodded. Dean wrapped the twine Bobby handed him around the scroll and tied it carefully.

Bobby dropped the match he held in the wok and lit the candle next to it.

"Go on, boys, hurry up." He said. Dean and Spencer passed their papers through the candle five times, whispering almost inaudibly:

"As I say this blessed verse, unwanted curse, you shall reverse." They dropped their papers, which were now lit, into the wok. The wok itself held a few drops of sandalwood oil and simple black pepper. And now, all they could do was wait.

The flames worked their way over the papers, turning them slowly to ash. Dean and Spencer held their breaths, waiting for the worst, hoping for the best.

* * *

The Mirror was content. Her master had what she wanted now, her husband gone. Her master's art of voodoo meant nothing now, she was gone to the other side. Her business was finished. So when she understood what these two boys were trying to accomplish, she made her decision and let her magic go, leaving herself lifeless and harmless.

* * *

A brilliant flash of light made Spencer and Dean both jump. It grew brighter and brighter, covering a huge range, engulfing the two of them. Spencer's eyes grew to an enormous size, his breath leaving him as the light consumed him.

Dean braced himself, shutting his eyes tight and waiting to open them again in a fiery pit.

But nothing of the sort happened.

He felt like he was spinning, a sort of lightheadedness coming over him, almost peaceful. Until he came crashing down hard, falling to the ground, all time and place lost to him.

The light faded, leaving nothing but a black sky full of stars. He sat up, groaning. His head felt like it had been hit by a truck.

He looked up at Bobby.

"Well, I think we're officially out of options. He ran a hand over his face. He paused at his jaw, brows coming together. Stubble. His hands shot out in front of him. _His _hands. He looked down at them, the rings. He ran a hand over his head, feeling his own short, spiky hair. He grinned, standing and looking down at himself.

"YE-ES!" He said triumphantly, throwing his fist in the air. He touched his face, flexed his arms, and he couldn't stop smiling. Spencer sat up, touching how own head and looking up at Dean. It took him a moment to realize what face he was looking at.

He looked down at his hands, brown eyes wide in disbelief. His long, thin fingers moved when his mind told them to. He touched his face, his clean shaven face, which was caked in mud and god knew what else, but it was his. He touched his grimy hair, long hair that came to his shoulders.

He laughed, standing.

"I can't believe it worked." He smiled. Dean looked back at him, his eyes bright with his smile.

"Right?!" He said. He turned to Bobby. "You are a miracle worker, dude! Thank you!" Spencer nodded.

"Yes, thank you." He said gratefully.

"Just keep away from stuff like that, alright?" He said, grabbing the cracked mirror.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Sam asked.

"Put it in a box and shove it in your Dad's storage, that's what." He got into his rusted car and started the engine.

"Now try and stay out of trouble for more than five minutes, ya idgits," He nodded to Spencer. "Good ta meet ya, Dr. Reid." He said. Spencer nodded politely. Bobby pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.

"I told him to call me Spencer at least five times." He said, shaking his head.

"Bobby's polite like that." Dean shrugged.

"Let's get out of here." Sam said. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, you two are in serious need of a shower." He said. Spencer and Sam glared at him. He smirked.

"What?" Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Just get in the damn car."

--Almost done…--


	22. Grand Finale

22

**Grand Finale**

_It ain't over 'til it's over_

_-Lenny Kravitz_

Dean stepped into the Rehobeth police station, looking around. He saw a dark head of hair facing J.J. and he grinned, walking toward them. He grabbed Emily's shoulder once he was close enough and spun her around, instantly locking his lips with hers before she could say a word.

Her eyes flew open in surprise, tensing. But she quickly recognized how these lips moved. It was familiar to her. She let her eyes close and held the back of his head, pressing him closer to her. He cupped her cheek, his other hand on the small of her back, partly holding her up. He gently let her go, looking down at her with smoldering eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. Emily shook her head, regaining her bearings. She swallowed and looked up at him.

"I take it you aren't Reid?" She said. Dean's grin broadened and he shook his head. Emily smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." He said.

"And, uh, what was that for?" She asked. Dean shrugged.

"I dunno. Celebrating 'cause I have my face back?" He suggested.

"That works," She nodded. Behind her, J.J. cleared her throat. "Sorry," Emily winced. "What were you saying?"

Morgan walked up to Dean, brow cocked. "Reid?" He said.

"Nope," Dean said, grinning again helplessly. "This is one hundred percent Winchester." Morgan chuckled and shook his head.

"So where's Reid and your brother?" He asked.

"Before Spencer and I switched back Sam and I had to go find this ghost's remains in a swamp. And when we switched back, well…" He trailed off. "Needless to say they're taking well deserved showers."

"Ah," Morgan said, nodding. "So, what are you gonna do now? Ya know, considering you got your body back?"

"I'm gonna eat, for one. Apparently Dr. Reid has an eating disorder. And then…" He looked over his shoulder at Emily. "We'll just see where it goes from there." He grinned slyly. Morgan smiled back and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good luck, man." He said, turning away. Garcia came bustling out from behind a cubicle, humming a Spice Girls song and bouncing their way, most likely to talk to J.J. and Emily. Dean grinned mischievously, heading her off.

"Hi, Reid." She said, smiling. Dean shook his head.

"Guess again, Penny," He said. Her smile faded and her eyes grew. "Promise is a promise." He gently pressed his lips to hers, taking her by surprise and feeling her melt in his arms. He tried not to smile when she almost fell over. He pulled away, grinning down at her.

"You're a lifesaver. Thanks again." He said, steadying her. She hiccupped.

"Anytime. No problemo. Good God I need a drink…" She stumbled over to Emily and J.J., still smiling. Dean chuckled. If only more girls were like Penelope Garcia.

* * *

Spencer brushed his hair out of his face, adjusting his tie again. He looked around the police station, knowing if he looked to the right far enough he could see her sitting behind her desk, working diligently, pushing a piece of her chocolate brown hair behind her ear, shoving her glasses up her nose. He chewed his lower lip, sneaking just one glance at her. He turned away quickly, blushing a deep red when he saw she was looking at him too.

"Go talk to her." Dean said next to him, making him jump.

"Talk to who?" Spencer asked, trying to sound oblivious. Dean frowned.

"Dude, seriously? I know you like her, now go talk to her. What's holding you back?" He asked. Spencer bowed his head.

"I have no _idea_ what I should say." He said. Dean barked a laugh.

"That's _it_? C'mon, lame excuse, dude."

"Then what should I say?!" Spencer exclaimed.

"Ask her out for coffee or something," Dean said. "It's not hard."

"Well, what if she doesn't like coffee?" Spencer asked. Dean rolled his eyes.

"And what if she does? You'll never know unless you ask." He said. Spencer glanced at Beverly again.

"Go on," Dean urged. "Go get her." He shoved Spencer forward to prove his point.

"Dean, you're cruel." Sam said, walking up next to him, watching Spencer walk over to the counter. Dean shrugged.

"Hey, someone has to try and get this kid laid." He said.

* * *

Beverly looked up when a shadow blocked some of her light. Her heart jumped a little when she saw the cute guy standing in front of her.

"Hi." He said, half smiling.

_Oh my goodness he's adorable._ She thought.

"Hi." She blushed. She glanced over at the guy she had run into a few times the past few days. She frowned a little. He was acting totally different. Actually he was acting like the guy standing in front of her. Or, well he was acting like that earlier today. And now the guy in front of her was…Her head was starting to hurt.

"Beverly, right?" He asked, his voice shaking. At least he was as uncomfortable with this stuff as she was. She just couldn't believe someone that looked like this was hitting on _her._ She nodded, trying not to look at her nametag.

"Sorry, I can't see your nametag. What's your name?" She said playfully. He swallowed, face turning redder than she thought humanly possible.

"Sorry, I, um," Okay, this was starting to freak her out. "I'm Spencer." He said finally.

"Can I ask you something?" Beverly said. This had happened to her all too often. She had to ask. "Did your friends dare you into talking to me, or something? 'Cause if you're doing this as a joke I'd like to know now." To her surprise, she saw understanding and pain in his eyes. He shook his head.

"No, I…I wanted to talk to you, I swear. I wouldn't do that. I know how it feels-" He broke off, like he had said too much. She smiled up at him. She saw honesty and innocence in his eyes. Something that was running in short supply when it came to guys; he was genuine.

"I get off in about five minutes." She said, wondering what he would do with the information. He took a breath and swallowed hard.

"Um, do you want to go for coffee?" He asked quickly. She felt herself blush as she smiled at her hands.

Spencer's heart stuttered, watching dimples form on her pink cheeks.

"Yeah," She said quietly. "I know this great place in Dothan. It's about fifteen minutes away." Spencer smiled shyly.

"Great. Um, I'll see you in a minute?" He suggested. She nodded.

"Okay." He turned and walked away, hardly able to believe the thought playing in his head.

_I have a date._

* * *

Hotch, Rossi and Morgan shook their heads while Dean smiled smugly.

"I can't believe it," Hotch said. "I seriously can't."

"They all grow up sometime, Hotch." Rossi said with a small smile. Morgan looked at Dean, obviously impressed.

"What the hell did you say to that kid?" He asked. Dean shrugged.

"Nothin' I haven't told anyone else. I told you guys he liked her." He said.

"Well, you're a miracle worker. That's all I'm going to say." Hotch said before walking away. Rossi and Morgan followed.

Emily came up next to Dean, looking up at him.

"So, you're leaving tomorrow?" She asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. You too?" He asked. She nodded slowly. "What do you wanna do?" She looked from her left to her right, like she was making sure no one would hear her. She leaned closer to him.

"I want to go to my hotel room and take you with me." She said, smiling wryly. Dean's brows rose.

"Hey, if you're game, so am I." He said. She grabbed his belt and hauled him out of the police station.

* * *

Sam sat down at a desk next to Penelope.

"Did you get ditched?" Garcia asked in a baby talk voice. Sam nodded solemnly. She smiled.

"Well, I'm starving, you?" She asked. Sam cocked his brow at her.

"Chill, it's a friendly dinner," She looked over the top of her glasses. "Not a _friendly_ dinner," She looked over her shoulder. "Morgan, J.J., Hotch, Rossi! You guys hungry?" She turned back to Sam. "You comin', Sammy?"

"As long as you don't call me that again, yeah."

* * *

Emily's head rested against Dean's bare chest.

"That was the most fun I've had in a really long time." She said. Dean half smiled.

"Thanks," He said, absently running his fingers through her hair. "My dad woulda flipped if he knew I did a FED." He said chuckling. She laughed.

"My dad _will_ flip if he ever finds out I did a…well, his worst nightmare." She said. Dean nodded, grinning.

"I've been told that many times." He said. She shook her head.

"That's kind of sad, Dean." She said. He half shrugged. They were quiet for awhile. She looked up at him.

"Are you tired?" She asked, breaking the silence. He looked at her.

"No, why?" She smiled wryly. He grinned back. "Oh, right." He rolled on top of her, kissing her tenderly.

"It's gonna suck when the sun comes up." He said softly. She placed her hand on his neck, thumbing his cheek.

"Then let's make this one helluva night." He grinned again.

"You got it, sweetheart."

* * *

She felt her back hit the door, but it hardly mattered. She was focused on the lips bombarding hers, the hands holding her waist. She braided her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to her, if that was even possible. She felt herself being lifted off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling both his and her hearts pounding rapidly in their chests.

"I never do this." She whispered when one of their fevered kisses broke. His lips ventured to her neck, that same fiery passion there.

"Me either," He said between kisses. "But I think we both understand the concept of a one-nighter, right?" She nodded. "And I think we'll be okay if we don't give ourselves time to think this through, right?" She nodded again. "And-" She caught his lips, silencing whatever he was about to say.

"Shut up." She said with a smile. He laughed nervously and attacked her lips again. She tugged at his tie, loosening it. His hand fumbled blindly for the doorknob, which had already been unlocked by some sort of miracle on his part.

"You're really good at that," She said, breaking apart from him and gasping. He blushed.

"Thanks, you too." And they were kissing again.

"I never do this." She repeated, almost as if she couldn't believe it.

"Are you sure you want to?" He asked. She looked at him, her pupils dilated, lips swollen from kissing.

"Are you?" She asked in her soft, gentle voice. Spencer felt his heart gain speed as he looked at her. Her soft brown hair shaping her face and stopping at her jaw in a bob, her heart shaped face sporting a small button nose and a pixie like mouth. Her eyes were huge green orbs that made his heart pound. They were usually hidden behind her bangs or her glasses, but they had been tossed in her purse hours ago. She was so small she seemed fragile, but god, Spencer thought she was so beautiful. And he wanted her. Bad.

"Hell yeah." The door came open then and slammed shut behind him.

* * *

"Hey, Baby," Dean said, running his hand over the hood of his car. "You miss me?"

"Does he often talk to inanimate objects?" Rossi asked Sam.

"Just that one." Sam replied. He turned to Hotch. "If you guys need anything dealing with, well, stuff you don't know about call us." He said, handing him a phone number.

"Thank you," Hotch said. "You saved most of our lives this past week." Sam shook his head.

"Part of the job, Agent Hotchner." He said.

"Alright, you two," Garcia said, hands on her hips. "C'mere and tell me bye."

Sam smiled and bent down, giving her a hug.

"Bye, Garcia." He said.

"Bye Gigantor," She giggled. "Your turn, Dean."

Dean bent down and pecked her on the cheek.

"Bye Penny." He said. She giggled.

"I'm gonna miss you." She said.

"Eh, I think it's better if I go. Morgan's been deprived of you for the past week." He said. Garcia nodded.

"Very true."

Sam went about telling everyone else goodbye. Emily walked up to Dean, smiling warmly.

"I'll see ya?" She said.

"Probably not. But you never know," He said. "But call me anytime, alright." She nodded. He cupped her cheek and her heart sped in anticipation of what was coming.

"Goodbye, Em." He said quietly, pushing his lips gently to hers. They broke apart minutes later when Sam gave an impatient huff.

Dean let her go and proceeded to shake Morgan, Hotch and Rossi's hand and hug J.J.

"Well," Spencer said to him. "This has been a really weird week."

"Welcome to my life." Dean chuckled. Spencer glanced sideways.

"You didn't have any nightmares last night, did you?" He asked. Dean shook his head.

"No, did you?" Spencer also shook his head no. "I'll see ya, Doc." Dean said, shaking Spencer's hand. Spencer half smiled back.

"If you do, make sure it's a friendly visit and not business." He said nervously. Dean laughed again.

"Scout's honor," He said. He turned and opened the driver side door of the Impala. Sam climbed into the passenger side. "Oh, Doc?" Dean said, smirking. "You've got lipstick on your cheek." Spencer's eyes grew and he rubbed at his cheek vigorously, mortified.

"Whore." He mumbled. Dean laughed.

"Dork!" He started the engine of the Impala and drove off, leaving Quantico behind him.

The BAU team watched for a moment, before J.J. said:

"Alright guys, we have another case." She said. Hotch sighed.

"There's always another case."

_Spencer:_

"'_The shifts of Fortune test the reliability of friends'_

_-Cicero"_

**THE**

**END**

**--**Alrighty folks that's all she wrote! Er, well, I wrote. :D Thank you to everyone that read and reviewed and to those who followed it form the beginning and to my shower for giving me the idea. My next story is a sequel to **Sam Winchester and the Seven Deans** titled: **Sam Winchester and the Seven Deans 2: The Eighth Dean.** Chapter one should be up tonight! Glad bless you all!--


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